Foolish
by Tonksaholic
Summary: Can love survive, no matter what someone does to destroy it?
1. Chapter 1

Blue.

It was the color of the sky that blurred all around her as she flew miles and miles around the pitch, dodging Bludgers and clutching the Quaffle protectively against her until the second she hurled it past the Keeper and through one of the hoops.

It was the color of her mother's favorite jumper; Mum had worn it ever since she was a little girl and though the hue had faded from a royal navy to a light periwinkle over the years, Mum still slipped into it whenever she sat down to knit in the evening.

It was the color of her father's eyes. No quilt in the world, woven or conjured from thin air, could ever warm her body the way her heart warmed whenever her father's eyes lit up when he smiled at her.

The jewel of her most prized necklace…the pansies her neighbor grew in the pot from her windowsill…Tonk's hair in the only wedding photograph they had of her…every single solitary stick figure in Victoire's drawings…the rich, fresh blueberries that she had eaten every morning for the past few weeks. They were all the same color.

Blue.

Ginny Weasley had never taken the time to stop and realize how surrounded she was by the lovely shade in her life, both in memories and the here and now.

Until the moment she stared down into the small cauldron bubbling softly on the counter in her bathroom and realized that her potion had turned that shimmering, shiny indigo. It turned Ginny into something she had never seriously considered she be:

Pregnant.

That was what the color blue would always remind her of now. The day she discovered that she was expecting a child.

Slipping down heavily onto the cool onyx tiled floor in a haze, she leaned her forehead against the lip of the spotless porcelain tub and bit back a desperate sob. How could she have let this happen?

It was the blueberries that had been her first clue. She had never had a taste for them growing up, despite her mother's threats and her father's bribes whenever blueberry muffins were all that sat on the breakfast table in the morning. There was a tartness to them that Ginny could not stomach. But one morning, enjoying the lovely weather on a rare day off while strolling a few blocks from her apartment through the farmer's market that had sprung open when the last snow melted, she had spotted the small stand with the wooden buckets overflowing with the tiny fruit. The scent intoxicated her and she was instantly ravenous. Curious, she nonetheless bought three handfuls and went on her way; they were gone thirty minutes later when she reached her front door.

The pattern repeated itself often as May slid into June until one morning, searching in her kitchen through one her mother's old cookbooks for a blueberry tart recipe, she glanced up at her clock. She wasn't due at the Burrow for Sunday lunch for a few more hours and she wanted to surprise her mother with a bit of culinary flair. After all, her kitchen was outfitted with all the latest cooking gadgets, both Muggle and magical. Why not put them to good use? Before she started gathering ingredients, her eye caught the calendar and the day's date. But it wasn't until her hand was on the refrigerator door that some strange synapse in her brain fired and Ginny realized she was missing something else besides her former aversion to blueberries.

Now, an hour later, after sending an owl to her parents feigning a last minute practice session with the Harpies and apologizing for her absence, she knelt down on the floor of her lush bathroom as her thoughts raced across her mind with the speed of a Snitch. There was no rhyme or reason to them, they just swirled into a dizzying cloud of chaos that made her ears ring and her hands tremble:

_How will I keep playing Quidditch…Is it a boy or a girl…How could I have forgotten the bloody Contraceptive Charm after all those lectures from Hermione after she had that scare last year…What should I stop eating or start eating…What if its twins or triplets or whatever four babies are…Godric, I'd use an Unforgivable for a pint of Fire Whiskey right now…How many curse words will Mum be able to fit into one breath after I tell her…Should I let her be there for the birth…Do __**I**__ have to be there for the birth…Why did Fleur say Vic cried almost nonstop those first months…Are my brothers are going to go absolutely mental…Am I going mental…_

On and on the carousel of questions went until finally she landed on perhaps the most important question of all. She snapped her head up from the tub so quickly that a wave of dizziness crested over her and she fell onto her back. She laid there and stared up at the intricate patterns of white dots on the midnight black ceiling that the interior decorator had personally charmed to glow softly as flickering stars when the lights were dimmed. Soaking in the tub after a grueling day of practices or snuggled up in the warm bubbles with her boyfriend on one of the rare nights they found themselves able to spend time with each other, Ginny would stare up at those twinkling stars and feel such a wave of contentment wash over her, she would sometimes feel a shiver course through her body. In those instances her life was perfect.

Now the shiver she felt was fear. Fear of telling the man she loved what she had let happen, what her carelessness had caused, and what it meant for the future.

She closed her eyes as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

Look what she had done to them, to **him**. And after all Lionel Dresden had done for her life.

She could just see his handsome face now. The shock and disbelief. The uncertainty and the panic. The fear.

But most importantly, the disappointment in the fact that their relationship was about to become much more public than he wanted it to be. Not that she begrudged him his privacy. He had so little of it.

Lionel Dresden was a wizard of great power and influence, known through much of the world for his development of the most innovative potions in the world; one drop of any number of his creations could bring a person up to the highest of high joys and another could mire someone into the darkest depths of despair. Aurors, wizarding royals, Quidditch stars, and every Merlin and Mary on the street waited with bated breath to try his latest concoction for the last five years now. And the potions wunderkind that was Lionel Dresden never disappointed the public with his offerings. Or his flashy lifestyle. Or his devilish charm. Or his hypnotic Southern accent. Or his knee knocking, skirt dropping smile.

They had met by pure chance two years ago, when Ginny had played a series of exhibition matches in the States in an attempt to raise their rather meager Quidditch profile before the World Cup. Lionel was attending a banquet held in honor of her and other stars from Wimborne, Kenmare, and Portree. After they were briefly introduced by their host, the spark between them when they shook hands nearly caused Ginny to combust on the spot; the two of them found a secluded a corner and spent much of the night talking and arguing the global popularity of Quidditch compared to the rabid devotion Yanks like Lionel himself had for something called Bockling. It was similar to Quidditch but the players in Bockling wore much more protective gear and took much longer time outs.

"Now tell me this," she had said as she leaned closer to him from across the small table they were sitting at. The dark room was low lit and Ginny could just make out every fleck of gold in his shoulder length blonde hair. "In Bockling, do the players raise their hand to ask for permission to use the loo or do they wear diapers that get changed during one of those forty or so timeouts per game?"

Lionel had chuckled good naturedly, the deep throated laughter rolling past his full lips and straight down to Ginny's toes. "Well my oh my," he said, leaning his head against his fist and staring at her intently, as if she were a meal to be devoured. "We are a feisty one, aren't we Miss Weasley."

"I'm a Quidditch player," she smiled as she slinked back into her chair and curled a lock of her ginger hair lightly around her finger. "I have to be feisty to win in every match I play. It's just who I am."

His brown eyes darkened into pools of liquid chocolate. He took a sip from his tumbler before he asked, "So tell me this: are you this feisty in all aspects of your life or only when you're flying through the air on that broomstick of yours? The one that most men in this world would give up a few limbs to be?"

"Wouldn't you like to now," she said with a saucy grin, her heart fluttering rapidly as her body began to thrum.

"Now darling, you have no idea what I'd give to know the answer to that question."

He didn't have to give much; Ginny had gone up with him to his room only an hour later. Words were few and far between them for the rest of the night.

When they woke the next morning, splayed among the satin sheets, he traced a pattern of freckles on her stomach before he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

"Very, very feisty. Just as I suspected," he murmured, his mouth a hairs breadth away from her. Ginny simply grinned and ran her fingers through his silky locks before she pulled him down and crushed their lips together. It felt wonderful to be so open and carefree around a man again. The only other person she had ever felt this way with…

_Harry is the past_, she thought distractedly around the tiny ache in her chest that always blossomed whenever his name or his face came to her mind. _Leave him there and enjoy what you have now._

She clutched Lionel even tighter to her. There weren't many words between them that morning either.

Their relationship was delightfully fun and deliciously passionate. They laughed and loved with the ease of breathing, even with the wizarding press constantly on Lionel's trail. There was no wizard in the world the public craved more than Lionel Dresden. He was adored by all but their adoration could become a dangerous frenzy at the drop of the hat. Mobs could swell around him if he left a restaurant or he could be chased through the sky as he left an event. It could be suffocating. Because of this, Lionel insisted that their relationship be kept as secret as possible.

Her friends and family knew about them but had only seen them together a handful of times. Their approval of Lionel and his jet set, lavish lifestyle was grudging, at the very best. Ginny had never even been photographed with him, always leaving or arriving places separately from him. Whenever the press asked either of them about the state of their relationship, they always denied there was one. The strict parameters gave them privacy but with their hectic schedules, it was hard to find time for one another. Lionel traveled the globe to research materials for his potions and promote his growing and profitable empire. He didn't have a permanent address, just a revolving door of hotel rooms and rented houses; Ginny's career was based in Ireland and she wasn't even able to afford a flat of her own on the small stipend of pay that was her Harpies salary. Quidditch players may make millions of Galleons for the teams' owners but they themselves were not entitled to a slice of that lucrative pie. She'd lived in the team dormitory in Holyhead with three teammates. Until last fall when Lionel had offered to rent her an apartment in London.

She resisted. She resisted with every fiber of her being. Despite how far gone she was for him, it wasn't in her nature to be coddled and taken care of. But Lionel battled back against her stubbornness with sweet words and soft caresses in the night: telling her how he hated to see her worry over money; how he wanted to help ease her burden; how he wanted her to focus on her career as a Harpy as opposed to getting a second job during the off season, like a lot of players did. But he could have saved himself the trouble of the words by simply doing what he did six months ago when he surprised Ginny by taking her on what she thought was an afternoon lunch at an exclusive café in London. Instead, Lionel took her to the posh two bedroom apartment. The flat had high ceilings and huge picture windows, a marble fireplace, and an enormous walk-in closet in the master bedroom that Lionel had already filled with garment bags, stacks of shoeboxes, and a brightly wrapped package in the shape of a broom nestled in the corner. The building was a stone's throw away from the Leaky Cauldron so she wouldn't be cut off from the magical world but right in the heart of London so she could enjoy all the city had to offer.

It was perfect. Too perfect to be real.

"Lionel…there's no way I could accept this," Ginny said breathlessly as she walked into the bathroom and caught sight of the oval shaped bathtub. A person could swim laps in it. "This is too much."

"Darling, it isn't but if it makes you feel better, it's not just for you," he said easily, propping himself against the bathroom door jam. "Technically this place is mine but with my schedule, you'll be the one here most of the time. I'm doing more work in Europe than I am in America nowadays. With Voldermort done and gone, people want to enjoy life again. My potions can help them do that. So I'll need a base here; London's as good as Paris or Madrid and it'll mean you and I have more time for each other." He sidled up behind her and pulled her back against his chest, dropping a kiss on her shoulder blade. "Alone." He nipped gently at her neck, her pulse racing against his lips. "Without anyone to bother us or distract us," he whispered into her ear as she let out a small moan of pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she melted back into him even further.

"It would be nice to Apparate somewhere without worrying about if a reporter is going to catch us," Ginny agreed quietly, her resolve faltering with every kiss. What power he had over her! He could make her give up her deepest held beliefs and principles with just a smile and a few words. If she didn't love him so much, it might frighten her. She felt him grin against the back of her neck at her acquiesce. "I just worry that you'll be sick of me after a month."

"Please," he said turning her to face him. "You'll be kicking my behind out of here after two weeks." His strong hands cupped her bottom and hoisted her up against the tall countertop.

"Nine days," she countered as her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt and as the often did, the words ended for quite awhile.

"This can't be happening," Ginny said to herself in the present. She didn't know how long she lay there; the window she could see from the corner of her eye showed the sky had darkened considerably but she suddenly jolted upright when she heard the familiar crack of Apparition from the front hallway.

"Ginny! You home, darling?" Lionel called out in his familiar drawl.

"Yeah," she called out feebly as she stood on jellified legs. "I'll…I'll be right out. Give me a moment." She quickly banished the evidence of the pregnancy test and studied herself critically in the mirror.

"You can do this," she whispered to her reflection with as much confidence as she could muster. "He never said he didn't want marriage or children. Just go out there and tell him as soon as you can. Get it over and done with and move on from there." Nodding heavily, she turned on the tap and splashed a bit of cold water on her face to clean herself up. Gripping the bronze doorknob tightly, Ginny sucked in another deep breath and wrenched the door open.

Lionel was standing in the kitchen with his back to her, his robe tossed on a chair. He looked as if was pouring a drink. He turned his head slightly when he heard her approach.

"So how was your fam-"

"I'm pregnant," she exclaimed, in what could charitably be called a shriek. For a moment, all the tension left her body until she took in her first breath. Then her muscles tightened unbearably as she waited for him to respond.

He didn't speak at first but he put down whatever he was pouring. She wanted so badly for him to turn around and look at her, to make a sound of some sort recognition but all he did was stare at the black chrome cabinet in front of him.

_Please, please, please don't hate me_, she thought desperately as a fresh batch of tears tingled behind her eyes.

Finally, he turned around and seeing the trembling, on-the-brink state she was in, he walked over to her.

"Are you sure?" he asked calmly, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She nodded mutely.

Instead of any of the range of reactions she had imagined from him, his actual one was a shock to her. Lionel smiled gently and pulled her into his arms. He reached up to stroke her long, messy hair and it was wonderful. Like coming up for air after being underwater. She shut her eyes and sagged against him in relief as he rocked them slowly back and forth.

"It's gonna be all right," he whispered coolly into her ear. "There's a healer I know here in London. He's very good and very discreet. We'll have this all taken care of by the end of tomorrow."

Ginny froze. Her eyes snapped open and she blinked against his shoulder. "Taken care of?"

She stared at him in shock as he pulled back and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Don't you worry, it's perfectly safe," he assured her. "They've got it in a potion form now. One vial of it down the hatch and a few days later, it's like nothing ever happened."

"You…you want me to…" she stuttered. The words couldn't come out, couldn't even form in her mind.

"Why wouldn't you? Why would you want to give up your career right now?" he asked her curiously, the hint of smile playing at his lips. Normally, the look turned Ginny into something akin to a schoolgirl but now the almost smile hit her like ice cold water as the words that went with it processed in her brain. "It makes no sense at all. You're in line to be on the World Cup team in a couple of years. Can't do that if you're getting up five times a night to change diapers and offer nourishment, now can you. And me? Darling, I'm a lot of things in this world but the one thing I am not now nor will I ever be is someone's Daddy. That just ain't gonna happen."

He cupped his hands behind her neck and stared deep into her eyes. Ginny had the most violent urge to pull away from him but she was shocked to the point of numbness. What on Earth was happening? In all the nightmarish scenarios that had run through her head on the bathroom floor, she had never come close to this one.

Before she could open her mouth to try and rebut him, he started speaking again, his tone still light and composed but his eyes were rapidly darkening and not in the way Ginny was used to seeing them.

"Now let's look at this logically, Ginevra. I don't want a child in my life. And even if I did, though it kills me to say this, you would not be my choice for a mother." Her heart lurched and her breath hitched at his words. The tears pooled in her eyes and she saw him lean forward to kiss a few away. It disgusted her but she was frozen in shock. "You're a wonderful lady: gorgeous, smart, funny, and you've got a sexiness to you that can't be bottled and believe me, if it could be, I could do it. But one thing you are not is motherly. You are impatient, you got the temper of a rattlesnake, and you have a tendency to put yourself before anyone else. Does that sound to you like someone who should have a baby?"

Every word was a knife straight to her soul. She wanted to scream at him, strangle him until he couldn't make a sound, and deny every thing that had come out of his mouth. But has he looked at her with raised eyebrows, she thought back hard on his observations of her that he had gleaned from the last couple of years.

_Impatient…fine maybe I don't like to sit around and wait for things to get done but a bad temper? Okay so I'm a little free willing with the Bat Bogey hex and the cursing but I'm definitely not selfish…I don't put…Just because I'd rather go to parties than to my parents…I don't pass the Quaffle more because Gina and Greta have no aim…my friends know they can…I've never asked anyone to put me over anything else…_

And suddenly, she was thrust back in time. She squeezed her eyes shut and saw it as clearly as it were an hour ago:

_**Four days before she was to leave for Harpies training camp. Standing at the Burrow gates across from him and his bandaged arm hanging limply at his side. She saw the hurt fill his beautiful, haunted green eyes at her words but plowed ahead even as she felt her own heart wrench into two.**_

"_**You can be the most important person in my life," **_she remembered she had said tightly through her own tears, _**"or you can be an Auror. But you can't be both, Harry."**_

He'd chosen being an Auror. Because she asked him to. Because she asked him to put her first over something he had wanted to be for years.

Opening her eyes again, Lionel's handsome blurred grotesquely in her watery vision. For some reason, her mind thought of the ghostly handsome form of Tom Riddle and she shuddered involuntarily.

"Can you be your mother?" she heard him ask as if he were far away. "Can you love like her, with her patience and her devotion? Can you give up everything that makes you who you are for someone else's happiness?"

_Yes_, she thought without any hesitation. But her doubts and her fears, in the honeyed, cruel tone of the Heir of Slytherin her darkest thoughts had carried for years countered at once.

_Are you sure?_ her fear asked mockingly. _Are you positive? You couldn't even see the danger of a simple little book. How do you ever expect to care for and protect a helpless infant? Who knows what you'd let happen to it? Listen to your boyfriend, little girl, he knows what's best. What's safest for everyone involved_.

Lionel stared down at her, still cupping her head, a little too tightly for her comfort. His question still lingered in his eyes.

"No," she finally ground out. It felt like acid, that one little word. Like every poison and darkness known to man. But she had said it so it must be true.

No matter how wrong it felt.

Lionel smiled brightly and bent down to kiss her forehead. "I'll send an owl to the healer," he said against her hairline. "He can fit you in tomorrow as a favor to me. And I'll send an owl to the team too, let them now you'll be out sick for a few days." He gave her one more smacking kiss and strode away from her statue-like form to his office, where they kept their owls. "Can you call in for some take-out? I'm starving. I feel like Chinese tonight."

Ginny didn't move. She wasn't capable of it. She could only stare ahead unseeing at the remnants of the bag of blueberries that in her haste this morning, she had left sitting on the sleek island countertop.

Vaguely, she heard an owl hoot as it flew by the open balcony door she stood across from. The sun had fully set and the sounds of people outside on the street laughing and walking by could be heard.

_Why are they happy_? Ginny thought. _The world just stopped. Don't they know that?_

Striding across the room, she reached up to slide the door shut. Blinking at it owlishly for a few seconds, she wondered why she couldn't seem to lift her hands to close it. She couldn't find them. She couldn't feel them. She didn't know where they were or what they were doing. Searching widely, tears streaking unabashedly down her cheeks, she finally found them when she looked down.

Both of her hands were ferociously clutching her stomach.

Forgetting the door, she ran back into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast before she unsteadily stripped off her clothes. Climbing in, she crumbled to the floor as the scalding hot water burned against her back and her sobs unleashed in loud, painful gasps against the tiled walls.

"I'm sorry," she choked out as her hands found her stomach and clutched it again. "I'm so sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny laid against the slick, vinyl settee of Healer Smythe's exam room and stared aimlessly out the room's lone window at the overcast sky. The salmon colored walls were so eye watering that she couldn't stand to look at them without her stomach turning over again and again.

At least that's what she told herself.

The walls were causing her upset stomach; the bumpy Apparition to the healer's office had upset her stomach. The sleepless night had left her with an upset stomach. It was one or a combination of all three that had upset her stomach. It had to be.

Because she couldn't let herself think of the other **reason**. The **reason** that would be a very rational explanation for her nausea.

If she thought of that **reason**, it would kill her.

With every raindrop that slid down the window, she felt her eyes threaten to droop shut. Sleep had evaded her last night. She stayed in the bathroom, crying hopelessly in the shower long after the water had turned cold. When she finished, she dressed listlessly for bed and went into the living room, settling on the plush black leather sofa and pulling out her Harpies playbook. She crammed the words and the moving diagrams of different plays inside her brain, doing everything she could to distract herself from what would transpire in the morning. But no matter how many fly patterns she studied or page-long Quidditch rules she memorized, every time the ornate grandfather clock by the fireplace (a housewarming gift from Lionel's dowager mother) gently chimed the hour, her blood would run cold.

Every hour was one hour closer to Ginny becoming a monster.

Lionel had come to see when she was coming to bed around eleven. Her jaw clenched until she thought her teeth would crack at the sound of his voice and she steadfastly kept her eyes on the book as she told him she would come to bed when she was ready to. He left her alone but not before he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, bending to kiss her head. The urge to turn around and pummel him, to try to make him suffer as he was making her suffer, was profound but she resisted. If she let go of her control, even one inch of it, she was terrified she wouldn't get it back. As he pulled back, he whispered that he'd cleared his schedule and he'd bring her to her appointment with Healer Smythe so she wouldn't have to worry about getting home safely.

_And to make sure I go through with it_, Ginny had thought furiously as he padded back to the bedroom, without a care in the world. Without even acknowledging how much he was hurting her.

Fitful dozes plagued her as she laid on the sofa the rest of the night. Her dreams were terrorizing. There weren't any images just an endless array of sounds with no pattern or sense: an ominous ticking from a clock; the maniacal laughter of the Carrows as they issued their "discipline" during their reign at Hogwarts; a raging blast of thunder; George's hacking cries at Fred's funeral; the soft hissing noises she had made as she unlocked the entrance to the Chamber and a host of others that made her clamp her hands over her ears in an attempt to block them out.

It was the last one that disturbed her the most. Nothing about it was scary. It had just been so long since she had let herself remember how it sounded.

Harry's voice. Saying her name. In the way he used to when he had loved her. When she might have been deserving of his love.

When it registered in her head, she had shot up from the sofa, knocking the forgotten playbook to the floor. She spun her head back and forth, looking for him. Imagining in her sleep deprived state that Harry was actually standing right beside her in an apartment he had never set foot in. That she'd see him smile at her once again, as if she were precious and beautiful.

But he wasn't there. All she saw in her search were the empty stark white walls and the black furniture. There wasn't a drop of color in the room, save for a bowl of fruit on the counter in the kitchen area.

Lionel thought that decorating in black and white was mature and reeked of elegance. His views overrode Ginny's thoughts.

_They always did_, Ginny thought jadedly, laying in dread on the exam table as she struggled against her battle with sleep.

It been unintentional, in the beginning. She wasn't a pushover, it wasn't how here parents and her brothers raised her to be. But she'd had been in such pain when she met Lionel, so desperate to turn a corner in the stalemate that had become her life.

Most of it was of her own doing. After all, **she** had been the one to force the end of her relationship with Harry. **She** had been the one to make him choose between her and a career he had wanted since he was fifteen. **She** had been the one to break his heart.

It didn't make her immune from hurt though.

It didn't make it easy for her to breathe normally when she heard Hermione or Ron say his name around her in hushed tones; or make her eyes sting any less the time she strolled past the play park where he'd taken her on a date after she told him she had never been to one and he had bent over in laughter as she hung upside down on the monkey bars; or make her body tingle any less when she lay in her bed at night and let herself remember how his strong arms felt holding her after they had finally sated their desires; or her heart constrict any less painfully when she had opened a copy of _Witch Weekly_ about six months after they stopped seeing each other and saw a picture of him walking along Diagon Alley, holding hands with another-

_He had every right to move on_, she thought, balling her hands into fists and shivering as the familiar pang of jealously hit her square in the chest. _You __**wanted**__ him to move on and find happiness. He deserves it after all he's been through._

She just wanted to be the one to give it to him. But how could she give him happiness

when she had such a feeble grasp on it herself?

When she was at Hogwarts, sitting in History of Magic and struggling to stay awake, she had dutifully scribbled down bits and pieces of whatever she could catch coming out of Professor Binns' droning voice about this Goblin war or that Goblin war. His details were so mundane that they bordered on comical - truly, who cared that Djorniak the Devious always wore two different colored stockings into battle? But in Professor Binn's lectures, at the end of any war, always someone won and someone lost. Those who were defeated were either outcast or punished; those who won reaped the glory and lived happily ever after and the see-through, whispery form of the history teacher would move on to the next war.

He never stopped and explained that the winners real happily ever after was far different from the one they had imagined it would be.

There was no attention whatsoever paid to how a victor felt at the end of a battle, standing in the near-ruins of what had at one time been a place filled with pleasant memories and smiling faces, that was now filled with mountains of rubble and the scent of decay and death. To look around a room where you had eaten nearly as many meals as you had in your mother's kitchen and see so many spatters of blood covering the stone walls. To stand over the still form of your once invincible brother and wonder what he'd been laughing at when his life was stolen from him.

Professor Binns never talked about the days and weeks after, when a "hero" would lay awake for hours at night, terrified of what fresh torture her nightmares would unleash on her, but still walk downstairs the next morning with a smile for her weary and worried parents.

Or how she would jump at the slightest shadow. Or how she would tremble if the lights in the room flickered at all. Or how she would break out into a sweat at any bang or burst she didn't see coming.

He never mentioned how it would feel to lay against the foot a tall oak tree by the pond of her home and hear the tale of the treacherous journey he had endured from the lips of the young man she loved; to see how he shook and his breathing caught at certain places; to feel his warm tears against the skin of her collarbone; to her him thank her for being so strong and how much he loved her because of that strength.

Ginny couldn't bear to disappoint him. Any of them really, her parents and her brothers and all the members of Dumbledore's Army that expected her will and her fortitude to have survived the end of the war. But mostly Harry. He had suffered through so much already.

She would not burden him with her frailty.

_Harry. Always, anything for Harry's benefit. Even if he doesn't see it at the time_, she thought as she let his caring, handsome face float in her mind's eye, as she unwillingly succumbed to a hazy restless sleep…

_**She was so tired she wasn't sure if she was awake or trapped in some bizarre dream state. The last time she remembered waking up was three days ago. **_

_**Or was it four? She wasn't even particularly sure what today was. The days all blurred together into a colorless mishmash of sunrises and sunsets.**_

_**Staring deeply into the bathroom mirror in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory, hair lank and bruise-like circles under her bloodshot eyes, Ginny limply lifted up her wand to recast the Glamour Charm before the other girls awoke and made their way into the bathroom. That simple little charm she had learned in fifth year was the only thing that she had in her arsenal to combat all of Hermione's endless questions and Neville's quizzical looks of concern about her health through the first half of the semester. **_

_**Hiding the evidence of her near-constant battles against nightmares, however, did nothing to diminish their power.**_

_**Raising her wand to her pale cheekbone, she murmured the spell under her breath and waited for it to take effect.**_

_**Nothing happened.**_

_**Clearing her throat, Ginny managed to hold her wand more firmly and say the incantation with a little more force, but again, the results staring back at her were the same. She remembered, far back to a time when the world at large had been more dangerous but her own life was much more easy to navigate, sitting in a Charms class and listening with rapt interest as Professor Flitwick described how when one's physical being lacked strength and energy, it corresponded directly to a decrease in one's magical ability.**_

"_**Come on, Ginny. Just focus and get it right," she commanded her exhausted image. She tried the spell again and again and again but nothing changed. The face drained of all life gazed back at her, tears streaming down her face as she took in her appearance.**_

_**She was hideous. What right did she have to be so hideous? To be so ungrateful with the life she was given when so many others had lost theirs?**_

_**Raising her wand again, she pointed it directly at the mirror.**_

"_**REDUCTO!" Ginny screamed over her sobs. The aged glass of her mirror shattered with a resounding bang, pieces of it scattering to every corner of the room. **_

_**When she realized what she had done, she squeezed her eyes shut and attempted to throw her arms up in front of her face but it was too late. Shards of glass pierced her cheeks and forehead, her bare arms, and part of her neck and collarbone. **_

_**The ferocious sting of the abrasions shocked her, numbing all her other senses and silencing her tears. She sunk down bonelessly to the tiled floor, shaking as she curled into a tiny ball. As she lay there, bleeding on a floor littered with glass, listening as a dozen or so sets of feet pounded down the hall outside towards the commotion she'd caused in the bathroom, her thoughts turned to Harry. His first weekend off from Auror training was in three days. (Or was it four?) He had written to her, telling her how excited he was to take her to The Three Broomsticks and all about his plan for sneaking the two of them away from Ron's watchful eye. He told her how much he missed her and how much he loved her.**_

"_**You are hideous," she whispered into the floor as she heard the wooden bathroom door burst open and a flurry of panicked voices enter to see the sorry state of Ginny Weasley.**_

_**Looking down as the mixture of blood and glass staining deep into the lines of the tiles, Ginny wished for the first time that the mad Bellatrix's Killing Curse had hit her during the Final Battle… **_

"Miss Weasley? Can you hear me, dear?"

At the feel of someone touching her shoulder, Ginny bolted up with a barely contained scream. She turned her head quickly back and forth, trying to get her bearings back. Her wild brown eyes finally settled onto the concerned blue ones of a tawny haired woman not much older than herself standing a few cautious feet back from her, wearing Healer's robes and holding a file.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said quietly, slowly coming to stand in front of Ginny, holding out a hand in greeting. "I'm Healer Nixon but please feel free to call me Nell. It's very nice to meet you."

Ginny shook the delicate hand, confused. "Healer Nixon? I thought I was under Healer Smythe's care today?"

"You would have been, normally, but Healer Smythe is on holiday in the Americas at the moment," Nell explained, pulling out her wand and summoning a stool from the other side of the room to sit on. "I cover his practice for him while he's away or indisposed. He forwarded the owl he received from your home to my office and here we are today."

Ginny smiled weakly, staring to the side and using her right hand to pick at a piece of thread from the dressing gown she had changed into. "Yes, here we are," she whispered. She forced herself with everything inside her not to look down at her stomach.

"So, Miss Weasley? Or do you prefer Ginevra?"

"Ginny, actually. Ginny is fine."

"All right then. Why have you come to see me today, Ginny?"

"It's in the file," Ginny said hoarsely, staring resolutely out the window.

Papers shuffled quietly for a few seconds and then silence for a few beats more.

"Oh, of course," Nell finally said. Ginny could feel the young woman's eyes study her and her face began to tingle with crimson. "So…can you tell me why you've come to me today?"

Ginny swung her head around, annoyance battling with confusion. Was this woman incompetent or just a floozy? All she wanted right now was to commit this travesty as quickly as possible and try to find a way to move on from it, not spend time spelling it out for someone who had apparently earned a Healer's license without having the ability to read.

"It. Is in. The file," Ginny ground out, her right hand coiling into a fist beside her and her eyes blazing.

"Yes. I see it very clearly and neatly written," Nell said, holding up the file and leaning forward slightly. "But I would like you to tell me, in your own words, why you're here and what you'd like me to do to help you today."

"Why?"

Nell let her eyes drift down to Ginny's stomach.

"Because of that," she said carefully, jutting her chin forward a tiny bit as she tucked a long lock of hair behind her ear. "You've been like that since before I woke you up."

Trembling, Ginny took a deep breath and lowered her head down to where Nell had indicated. A sob caught in her throat as she saw what she was doing:

Her left hand, spread wide, was holding her stomach. Holding it tightly. Trying to protect the life inside it from what she was about to do to it.

_You __**are**__ hideous_, she thought miserably.

She bit her lips and raised her watery eyes to meet Nell's kind ones. The healer placed the file on a small table beside and reached over to take Ginny's right hand in both her own.

"I'm not someone who is in any way, shape, or form against you having the right to end a pregnancy," she said gently, squeezing Ginny's hand. "I fully support any witch who decides that that is the best choice for her. But looking at you right now, and seeing from the file that it was your boyfriend who arranged this appointment for you, I get the feeling that you don't think this is the best choice for you. And I cannot, in good conscience, let you do something this drastic and permanent if you are unsure."

Ginny sighed and untangled her hand from Nell's to wipe her eyes. She couldn't move the one from her stomach.

"I'll…I will be an **awful** mother," she said. "Just plain awful."

"Why do you think that?"

"Be…because I…I'm…I don't…"

All of her supposed shortcomings that Lionel had listed last night; all of the doubts her own subconscious had taunted her with; all of the juvenile fears she had for her future stuck to the roof of her mouth like paste as she tried to push the words out.

They were lies or half truths she had convinced herself of to allow herself to come here.

In her silence, Nell spoke again.

"For the most part - and mind you, this is just my opinion - women who turn out to be awful mothers are not all that concerned about what kind of mothers they'll be before their babies are born. They aren't scared about what lies ahead and they are not worried for the safety of their children. In other words," Nell smiled and leaned back, "women who are awful mothers are exactly the opposite of you."

Ginny shook her head to try and clear out all the thoughts racing through it.

This was madness, sheer madness. A complete stranger who had never spoken to her outside this room today, told her that she might possibly have a small chance at being a somewhat decent mother and it was supposed to…what exactly?

Reassure her? Discount Lionel from the situation? Assuage her anxieties about her career and the reaction of her family? Allow this whole mess of a situation to make sense?

She pressed her left hand gently into the taut skin of stomach.

_Yes_, she thought with more certainty than she had felt about anything in years.

"My boyfriend," Ginny said slowly, "will not be happy about this." She looked questioningly at Nell. "Any advice on how to tell him?"

Nell's smile brightened. She patted Ginny's knee and stood up, going over to the sink to wash her hands.

"The only thing you can do is be honest with him. If he truly loves you, than he will find it in himself to support you and help you raise this child. If he doesn't…" Nell looked back at her and shrugged helplessly. "Well, if doesn't love you, than he didn't deserve to have a say in this decision in the first place. What do you think he'll do?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Ginny said. She stood up on still slightly shaky legs and walked over to change back into her regular clothes.

That wasn't true: she knew exactly what he'd do. But a small part of her hoped that maybe if Lionel realized that a baby was actually coming into the world, that he'd reconsider. She doubted it, though. He had never been the type to ogle over or play with any of her nieces or nephews at the Burrow on the rare occasions he had bothered to come with her there in the first place.

But, for the sake of their unborn child, she had to try and see if she and Lionel could forge ahead in their relationship.

Nell picked up a small feathered quill and started scribbling onto a notepad.

"I want you to avoid as much stress as possible. According to your file, you're a Quidditch player and while it is physically possible for you to continue playing, I'd advise against. You may be able to handle the speed and athleticism required to fly a broom but your baby might not be able to. I don't know of many Quidditch players who stay involved with their teams while with child but talk to your team. They might be able to work something out for you. I'm also writing you a prescription for a prenatal potion," she said as she wrote. "It'll last you a week or so until you can find a permanent obstetrics healer."

Ginny pulled on her shoe and took the piece of parchment Nell held out to her with a heavy heart.

"Isn't there any way that you could be my…" Ginny trailed off when Nell softly shook her head.

"I'm sorry but no," she said with regret. "My own practice isn't based here in London. I only work here a few days a month in exchange for supplies from Healer Smythe for my office. I can give you a list of names in the area if you'd like." She scribbled a few more things on another piece of parchment and gave it to Ginny.

Ginny slipped it into her purse and stood in front of the healer. On impulse, she threw her arms around Nell. After barely a second's hesitation, Nell returned the hug.

"Thank you," Ginny whispered, sniffling loudly. "If you hadn't been here today, I might have done something I could never have forgiven myself for."

The women pulled back and Nell wiped quickly at her own eyes.

"It was my duty as a healer, but also my pleasure, to be able to help you today," she said, giving Ginny's shoulder one last squeeze before she started walking towards the door. "You take good care of yourself and your baby, Ginny Weasley."

"I will," Ginny promised as Nell left the room. She looked down at her stomach, smiling.

There was still a mess of epic proportions waiting for her as soon as she left the exam room. So much uncertainty lay in front of her with no clear answers but at least she had something she had been lacking before now:

Hope.

"Hi," she whispered, patting her shirt-covered belly. "I…I am your mum. Please don't be scared but I have to be honest with you: I have no idea what will happen between now and when you're born but I swear that I will make the best life for you that I possibly can."

Feeling as if she could walk on air without the aid of magic, she gathered the rest of her things and walked over to the door. When her hand hit the doorknob, though, she paused and looked back down at her stomach once more.

"Oh and when you come out in about nine more months and I'm screaming like a banshee, please don't be frightened: that's what's supposed to happen


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note: I just want to say a quick thank you to all the readers and hope everyone is enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it. This chapter is much longer than I expected it to be but a lot needed to happen here and I couldn't find a good break point. Please enjoy!**_

"Well what in the name of Merlin's crotch was all that about back there?"

Ginny calmly looked up at Lionel as he strode into the kitchen from the hallway. She was sitting on the kitchen stool, staring at the wall ahead of her. As soon as she had left the exam room and entered the waiting area, she'd spotted him leafing aimlessly through an old copy of _Quidditch Quarterly_ without a care in the world_._ Without saying a word to him, she Apparated back to their flat in London and sat down in the kitchen to await his return so she could tell him the facts:

1.) That she was still pregnant, over his wishes.

2.) That she would remain that way for the next seven and a half months, no matter what he tried to convince her of.

3.) That at the end of it all, they would be parents.

Or more accurately, that **she** would be a parent. It was entirely up to Lionel if he wished to be one as well. But if his behavior over the past twenty-four hours was any indication, she'd be the only parent her child would ever have.

She hoped desperately that she was wrong.

Children deserved to have a father in their lives. She couldn't comprehend growing up, being raised only by her Mum - not that she doubted for one second that Molly Weasley would have been able to raise more than half a dozen children on her own. There was just something about even the idea of not having Dad there to hold her safely and protect her that curdled Ginny's stomach.

On the extremely rare occasions that she imagined it, Lionel had never been who she dreamed of being the father of her children - that title had belonged to one man and one man only since she was a little girl. But regardless of her wishes and daydreams, he **was** the father of the baby she was carrying.

So no matter her personal feelings towards the man at this moment, she owed her baby at least the chance of having two parents.

Which was why, staring at Lionel's wide eyes and set jaw, Ginny resisted the urge to hex him straight into the hallway. It was a challenge, though. She was still so raw over what she had almost done not even thirty minutes ago; what she'd almost let him convince her to do.

"I didn't take the potion to terminate," she explained slowly, enunciating every word and never breaking eye contact as she waited for his response.

His annoyed eye rolling and groan of irritation was not unexpected but still cut to the quick of her heart.

_He really never gave a damn about me or what I wanted. It was all about him,_ Ginny thought, cursing her stupidity and eager acceptance of every gift or caress he had ever lavished on her in an attempt to disguise his true intentions towards her.

A warm and willing body with no mind of her own: that was all Lionel Dresden had really wanted in his perfect woman. And in her haste to escape her pain and the wreckage she had caused for the people she had loved, she had let herself become someone she was, at her very heart, not.

But Ginny was not going to blindly play his games. Not anymore.

Not when she had something far more important in her life that far outweighed making Lionel happy.

"Damn it, Ginny," he cursed loudly, turning away from her in a huff of frustration. He walked out of the kitchen back towards the bedroom. She heard him moving around quickly, opening drawers and clattering things on the dresser. Ginny didn't move from her spot. "I have to be in New York tonight for a meeting with a group of new investors," he called back, "which means I can't take you to another appointment until I get back next week. Smythe was supposed to have the potion brewed for you and ready to go when you got there. Why the hell didn't you take it? It smelled bad or something? Because I gotta tell you, darling, it won't improve in the week between now and then."

"I didn't see Healer Smythe. I saw someone named Healer Nixon and she didn't give me the potion because I didn't want to take it."

The noises and shuffling in the bedroom abruptly stopped. After a deathly silent moment, Lionel reappeared in the kitchen. His thin lips were set tightly against each other and his blue eyes were ablaze with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Ginny subtly checked to make sure her wand was within reach in her back pocket, suddenly tense and nervous for a much different reason. Lionel had never once struck her physically and he didn't have his wand with him but he did have almost six inches and about eighty pounds of hard muscle on her. She would take no chances whatsoever with her safety.

"I'm sorry? What did you just say?"

"You don't need to trouble yourself with making another appointment for me to terminate the pregnancy, Lionel. I won't do it." She stared right into him, boring her eyes into whatever he had for a soul so there would be no confusion. "I'm keeping this child."

He shook his head in aggravation. "You and I, we decided last night that-"

"**You** decided last night," Ginny broke in angrily, pushing herself off the seat. "I, for some reason, didn't put up a fight. I guess I've been out of practice from two years of doing whatever the hell you wanted me to do. I admit it was my choice; I don't deny that, no matter how much I wish I could. But what happened in the past is in the past." She put her hand back on her stomach, imploring him to understand. "This baby is here now and will stay here until she's ready to be born." She took a deep breath in and out, trying to force her frustration out of her body. "I hope, for the sake of all three of us, that you can find a way to accept that."

Lionel stood stock still as her word sunk in. The fire slowly faded from his eyes to morph into something almost akin to pity as he studied her.

"Where is all this coming from?" he asked her quietly. He went to the couch and perched himself on the back of it. "You have your entire life in front of you to join - what the hell do you people call it? The pudding club? Having a baby will kill any future your Quidditch career has left. What's the rush to throw all that away right now?"

It was, Ginny had to admit begrudgingly, a valid point. One she hadn't let herself think through to the end in light of the situation. From her first days as a reserve Chaser on the Harpies, it had been drilled into her relentlessly to do everything within her power to avoid a pregnancy. In Quidditch, for women at least, pregnancy was nothing more than a silent yet public declaration to retire from professional play. There was no team in any reputable league that would let a pregnant woman so much as near a locker room and after the baby came, the rigorous nearly year-round schedule of matches, practices, and travel was not conducive to childrearing.

Especially if she was the only one actually raising the child.

She might be able to continue on with the Harpies or another team as a trainer in hopes of someday, maybe, becoming a coach (a pipe dream under the best of circumstances) but it would mean even more hours of work and a drastic cut in her already measly salary. If she wasn't playing, there was very little hope of gaining any type of endorsement deals. She had rebuffed numerous offers before due to Lionel's privacy concerns for their relationship; it would have made them easier to spot together on the rare instances they were in public the more well-known she was. Now pregnant (and more than likely unmarried) she had little chance of being paid to promote the latest line in broomsticks or Quidditch gear.

Looking at it from nothing more than a sheer financial standpoint, having a child right now was one of the most irrational and irresponsible things she had ever done in her life.

Which was certainly saying something, considering she was once the girl who had broken into Severus Snape's office to try and steal the Sword of Gryffindor.

So why then? Why was it so important to her to completely upend her life for something she had never truly let herself consider having or wanting?

_You know why_, she thought wisely.

"Because," Ginny replied to simply to Lionel. She glanced down at her belly and allowed herself a small fraction of a smile for a second before she faced Lionel again. "She's here now and I'm not the same person I was before I knew she existed. Nothing in the world means as much to me as making sure she's born healthy and strong. If that means sweeping up in hallways as a maid rather than flying through the air as a Chaser, than so be it. There is nothing you, or anyone else for that matter, can do or say that will change my mind." Her throat almost closed against the crushing weight of what she was about to say. "I am a mother now. And whether you like it or not, you are a father. If you can't live up to that title, then so be it. I will find a way to raise this child by myself."

Lionel looked down at the upholstery as if in deep in thought. Finally, he looked back at her and shrugged with an air of indifference as he spoke.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you it will have to come to that. I wasn't lying to you before when I said I had no interest in being someone's Daddy. That hasn't changed just because you've been bitten by the Mommy bug."

"Why not, Lionel?" Ginny asked, struggling to understand how he could feel that way; how anyone could feel that way about their own child. "Why are you so sure that when the baby comes that you won't-"

"Because I'm not wired like you, darling," Lionel cut her off to stand in front of her, holding her shoulders gently. She grimaced but didn't move away. "I don't change who I am for other people; they change for me. That's how whatever created this universe made me and that's how I'm going to stay until they bury me beneath the Earth. You know that firsthand." He gave her a leeringly charming smile and quick wink.

Ginny wrenched herself away from him, disgusted. "You're a vile pig," she ground out from between clenched teeth. "I don't know what I ever saw in you to begin with."

She walked over to the couch and threw herself onto the plush cushions. In the background, over the roaring in her ears, she heard him move out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom, whistling loudly to himself as he did.

_How dare he?_ she thought, seething so much she was shocked steam wasn't coming out of her ears. _I cannot stand him! I must have been temporarily insane when we met that night!_

The sound of his whistling grated on her already shattered nerves until she felt like she would scream if she had to hear many more of it. If she knew what being on a rollercoaster felt like, she might have called this entire day an emotional one.

And it was barely even twelve o'clock in the afternoon.

She needed to escape this place and this disastrous course she had steered herself headlong into.

Taking a calming breath, Ginny stood up and turned on the spot as she saw in her mind the one place in this world where she still made sense.

The Burrow was simply stunning in the light of the summer. Truthfully, the Burrow was perfect to Ginny in any light at any time of the year but something about her childhood home with the backdrop of the bright sun shining in a cloudless blue sky amidst scores of green trees and colorful flowers was almost enough to bring tears to Ginny's eyes.

Of course, that could be those hormones that she had heard Bill bemoan constantly during Fleur's pregnancies. She'd have to read up on that at some point.

For now all she wanted to sit at her mother's table and be coddled in her Mum's arms in between bites of homemade chicken soup and Yorkshire pudding.

_Before long, I'll be the one offering my love through food_, Ginny thought wryly as she made her way up the long pathway to the crooked house. _It would help if I knew how to cook…or bake…or sing a lullaby…or change a bloody nappy…_

With every step she took, the tonnage of things she didn't know about taking care of a baby slammed into her. Babies needed everything done for them and Ginny felt that she had just barely mastered living out from under her family's protective shell. How would she do it by herself? It was impossible to learn everything she'd need to know in the next few months.

Ginny loved her baby with her whole heart; loved her ferociously and without question. Love would never be an issue. But loving her child didn't mean she knew how to care for it once it was placed in her arms.

A thought formed in her mind as she walked past the row of Wellingtons propped up near the front door. It would be a blow to her pride but her options where limited at this point.

_Maybe I should stay here_, Ginny thought, biting her lip._ To do that, though, I'd have to somehow find the nerve to tell Mum I'm giving her a grandchild without a ring on my finger. Maybe if I tell her I'll name the baby after her she won't scream so loud that the windows will shatter..._

Her musings where interrupted when the front door burst open before she could place her hand on the knob.

"I thought that was you I saw coming up the path," Molly Weasley told her daughter with a joyful smile and open arms.

Ginny managed to return the smile feebly before her mother pulled her in for a squeeze.

_Home,_ Ginny thought, squeezing her eyes shut as she basked in all that was right in the world.

The women held each other for a long moment as Ginny struggled to keep her emotions in check. It would do no good to start sobbing against her mother's breast like a child. Amazingly, for the first time in years, Molly let go of the hug first.

She pulled back, cupping Ginny's face in between her hands lovingly.

"What on Earth are you doing here, love? I thought you'd be at practice with such a big match coming up this week. Ron says the Falcons are the team to beat this year. After the Harpies, of course."

"Oh…well Gwenog decided to give us the day off. You know, for good behavior and all that," Ginny lied weakly as they eased into the warm, sunny kitchen. There was a huge pile of clothes sitting on the wooden table, waiting to be folded. A wave of nostalgia washed over here as she remembered her some of mother's strange household quirks:

Laundry could be washed by magic but must be folded by hand; the garden gnomes had to be taken care of manually; sweeping and dusting were done with spells except on the third Tuesday every other month so as to avoid an infestation of doxies, per Gilderoy Lockhart's book on household charms.

It was Molly Weasley's world. Everyone else just tried to keep up with her.

"Well that's a relief. I must say, I know you love your job but to have practice all day on Sunday…" Molly sighed, picking up a jumper and snapped it in front of her. Ginny followed suit, heading right for the socks. "In my day, we knew and valued the importance of spending time with one's family."

Ginny's face burned as she remembered lying about having to practice in order to skip a Sunday lunch only yesterday. Not the smartest move on her part but what was she to do? Go to the Burrow and whip up a pregnancy potion in the bathroom while her family sat right outside the door? That would have gone over well, especially with her brothers.

_It wasn't just the pregnancy test_, Ginny thought morosely, fingering the darned heel of one of her father's wool socks. _Doesn't matter if I was going to try to bake a tart yesterday for lunch. When it came down to it, I would have found another excuse to not come. I hardly make time for them anymore. That's why she's so put out. Lionel was part of the reason, no doubt, but he isn't why I really stay away. I miss seeing everyone all the time but the more I stay away, the easier it is for Har-_

Her spine tingled uncomfortably as she acknowledged the unspoken truth:

She stayed away so Harry wouldn't have to lose all he had ever had for family.

As much as she loathed Lionel, foisting the estrangement she felt from her family solely on his shoulders wasn't fair. She still saw her parents and her brothers; on holidays and the occasional family lunch or dinner. Ron had even been coming to some of her matches this past year, dragging Hermione along with him. All these years later and Hermione would still rather spend the day reading than having anything to do with Quidditch. But she was still Ginny's friend (for some reason) so she came to offer her limited support.

There wasn't any huge argument or a grudge between her and the rest of her family. They loved her as she loved them. But she purposefully kept her distance so Harry wouldn't feel out of place among her family.

They hadn't seen each other or been in contact since she had ended their relationship, which was both ideal and miserable. She caught occasional glimpses of him in the wizarding press (mostly with that perfectly lovely blonde witch Ginny refused to acknowledge by name) and heard secondhand stories about him on the rare instances she was with her family. According to what Hermione had been telling her for the past year or so, Harry didn't even seem to hate her. Last Christmas, she had felt like a Bludger had knocked the wind out of her when Hermione told her that Harry had made a point to have Hermione wish Ginny a happy holiday.

"He's doing really well," Hermione had told her cautiously after Ginny managed to ask how he was. "He still keeps too much distance between us, living off on his own the way he does, but he Floos and writes almost every day. We have lunch together at work a few times a week. He seems really settled and…I suppose 'content' is the right word."

Content was another word for happy. He was happy without her. She should be overjoyed; it was exactly what she had wished for him.

Curious thing it is, though. To get precisely what one wished for.

Harry had happiness and she had the pleasure of endlessly disappointing her family.

"I'm sorry about that, Mum," she said quietly, her words weighted with hidden meaning she hoped her mother understood. She kept her eyes focused on the socks she was bundling into pairs. "It just…it just couldn't be helped."

The older woman nodded sagely.

"Sweetheart, I understand that you have your own life to lead. We all do. I'd never try to deny you that. But you also have a family that loves you and worries about you. We don't see you enough anymore. Not since you…" Molly trailed off, smiling sadly and refusing to finish her thought out loud, which mutely infuriated Ginny.

The two women folded in silence for a few moments.

_Not since I what? _Ginny thought pensively as the pile of fabric shrunk slowly. _Not since I started shacking up with the new He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Not since I entered into a profession the lot of you thinks is too trivial to be a part of when there was an entire Ministry to rebuild? Not since I took Harry's heart and treated it like it was an earwax flavor of Bertie Bott's Beans? Not since I showed you all what a wretched excuse for a daughter and sister I really am?_

The tears pricked behind her eyes. Ginny felt like throwing every stitch of clothing on the table across the room or crying until she dissolved into the floorboards.

_This is going to be a fantastic seven or eight months, it really is_.

Her mother's hushed gasp startled her and she lifted her head to look at her mother's brightly smiling face.

"I just remembered. It's actually such a blessing that you came here today. Your father and I were going to try and have you and your…gentleman over for supper this week to share the news. We told everyone else yesterday. None of your brothers told you, did they?" Ginny shook her head, her confusion mounting. "Good. It's the most wonderful thing. Truth be told I still can't believe it happened. After all the years your father has put into the Ministry, to finally have them recognize all his hard work is just…" Molly reached across the table and planted a kiss on Ginny's forehead in excitement and let out an undignified squeak, unable to contain her glee.

Ginny let her, a small smile breaking out on her own face, distracting her from her earlier annoyance. She honestly couldn't remember the last time her mother had looked fit to burst with joy. Maybe when little Victoire had been born a year after the War had ended. And for it to apparently involve her father's job, after all his years plugging away in one of the Ministry's least valued departments.

"Did Dad get a promotion or raise?" she asked.

"No, something even better. He's been asked by Minister Shacklebolt to participate in a series of conferences designed to further strengthen relations between Magical and Muggle governments all over the world. The Minister said that your father's enthusiasm for improving our relations with Muggles over the years has made him a perfect candidate to help represent wizards and witches."

"Oh Mum, that's fantastic!"

"Isn't it? And Hermione is going as well; being raised by Muggles, she'll offer a unique perspective to whole thing. Though she won't be involved as much as your father, having less seniority in the Ministry and all. She and Ron will only be attending a handful of the international conferences whereas your father and I will be spending the whole year abroad spreading goodwill and seeing the Muggle sights. It'll be the honeymoon we never managed to take. You know, Harry spends a fair amount of time in America lately and he mentioned that there are…"

Ginny froze with a purple sock in one hand and checkered red one in the other.

She hadn't heard that right. Certainly, not when she so desperately needed them, her mother and father weren't going to be gone for-

"A year?" she whispered, stunned. "You and Dad will be gone a whole…a whole year?"

Molly nodded happily, folding pants and swaying slightly as if she were dancing to a tune only she could hear.

"It's so exciting! To finally see the world itself and not just through pictures in a book! And you lot don't need to worry about keeping up the house while we're gone. We know you all have homes of your own to manage without worrying about this one. There's a young man, newly married, in your father's department that's going to stay here and maintain the place with his wife. They'll pay a small rent and Percy will check in with them from time to time. They're moving in at the end of next week right after we've left. Everything's all taken care of."

Molly picked up her pile of clothes and put them in the wicker basket on the rickety seat next her, the smile never leaving her face. Across from her, Ginny was still dumbly holding the purple sock and the checkered one.

"Dear, are you all right?" she asked Ginny with concern as her brown eyes crinkled in confusion.

Ginny snapped her head up to attention and looked straight into the eyes exactly like her own. Words bubbled inside her throat, trying to escape, but she didn't know where to begin.

What was she supposed to say right now?

_Well Mum, I think it's great that Dad got offered such an exciting opportunity for the two of you but I don't think you should go gallivanting all across the world for a year because I just found out that I'm having a baby; that I hold a higher opinion of moldy sewage than I do for the father of said baby; that the only job I've ever wanted is no longer an option for me; and that my entire life has completely gone round the bend in the span of the day so I really think it's a good idea if you and Dad stay here and help me sort it all out before I go cross-eyed!_

Perhaps a bit too much on the nose.

"It's selfish, isn't it?" Molly suddenly asked Ginny. A hint of shame marred her aging yet lovely features.

Ginny blinked in bewilderment as she slowly put the forgotten socks back on the table. Selfish? How did her mother even know what that word meant?

"What are you talking about, Mum?"

Molly pulled put her wand and waved it; in a flash, the rest of the clothes on the table disappeared from sight. She sat down at the scuffed, well-loved table and motioned for Ginny to do the same.

"To leave you and your brothers for so long. You seven-"

Molly shut her eyes and paused to collect herself. Ginny remained silent. Even so many years later, Fred was still with her - with all of them really. But he was Molly's baby and even death couldn't change that. Ginny was only just on the fringes of beginning to understand that.

She reached across to give her mother's hand a gentle squeeze until Molly continued.

"I mean, you six are all so capable that I forgot that we're still needed: Bill and Fleur are still trying to learn to cope with the girls and baby Louis; Charlie risks his life everyday tending to those rabid beasts and he has no one in his life to share it with; Percy still has so much guilt for his behavior during the War; Georgie…George goes off and spends hours at a time sitting by Fred's grave without telling anyone; Ron doesn't have it in him anymore to be an Auror. He wants to help run the shop with your brother but he's so afraid of disappointing his best friend if he leaves." She reached over to brush Ginny's hair behind her ear before tweaking her nose playfully. "And you, my dear girl. You are more brilliant and bold than any witch I've come across in my days but sometimes I think you don't have quite the firm grip on your life as you'd have us believe that you do. Maybe your father and I should reconsider going."

"No," Ginny said immediately, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her mother raised her eyebrows to her hairline but didn't speak.

Ginny's life would be easier if her parents stayed in England. They'd help her; take her and her baby in and help care for her little girl while she found a job and got herself upright again. There'd be an ungodly amount of lectures from her mother but eventually all would be forgiven.

Because Ginny was their daughter and they loved her.

But it wouldn't be fair to them to make them sacrifice for her choices.

After all the years they'd given to their family, Arthur and Molly Weasley had a right to time for just the two of them. Time for their own adventures and time for their own love to blossom unabashed without any distractions to shade it.

Even if it did nothing to remedy her own predicament, her parents were going to take this trip and that was that.

"First of all, think of all the fun that Dad will have being around so many Muggles for a year," Ginny said, smiling softly until her mother mirrored her. "He'll be like a child who's been given the run of Honeydukes. It'll be impossible to contain him! And imagine all the exotic food you'll get to try and all the new recipes you learn; all the stories you can tell us and your grandchildren for years to come when you finally come home; all the good Dad can do by working with other governments; all the sunrises and sunsets you'll get to see all over the world. There are owls and Floos if anything happens here. At worst, you can Apparate home in an emergency. But you are going and that is final."

She furrowed her eyes sternly at her mother but kept the loving smile on her face.

"And if I ever hear you call yourself selfish again, I don't know what I'll do with you. I could use a million different words to describe you and selfish would not be one of them. There is nothing of your mind, body, and heart that you have not given to me and the boys all of our lives. You're entitled to something for yourself. How many scrapes did you kiss better and how many cool washcloths did you press on clammy foreheads over the years? How many nightmares did you soothe and how many well-deserved swats on the behind did you hand out? And you know what else? Every single meal we ever ate growing up was prepared by you. Think of all that cooking for that many children. I don't think I'd be able to do that every breakfast, lunch, and dinner even if I only had one child."

She said it with a wistful smile and chuckle but her stomach was clenched tightly.

_How am I going to feed this kid when my milk runs dry?_ she thought, only halfway joking as a dull panic began to set in yet again. _Even with all those gadgets in the apartment, I still order takeaway five nights out the week._

It was dangerous path for her mind to tread on but like so many other times in her life, Molly saved her from herself.

"Cooking spells are some of the easiest to master if you put the time into learning them," she explained to Ginny, who, unbeknownst to Molly, was sitting at rapt attention. "And if every meal isn't perfect, than so be it. That might not be what your children will hound you for. Knowing you, they'll want to be up in the air with their Mummy as soon as the sun rises and stay up there until the moon comes out. Or they'll want stories from you." Molly smiled fondly, her eyes drifting back in time. "When you were little, you would line up all your dolls and stuffed bears and tell these elaborate stories to them. You'd wave your arms around or use different voices or march about in front of them until you fell asleep on the floor. I'd bet a hundred Galleons that when you have children, you'll be in charge of bedtime stories."

"Really?" She bit her lip and looked down, hiding behind her hair. This was the opinion she wanted more than anyone else's but her Mum could still give an answer that would break her heart. "Do you…you think that I'll be a good mother? Someday?"

Molly pulled her daughter's chin up with her fingers and made Ginny look right at her as she answered.

"There is not one doubt in my mind of that, Ginevra."

Later, after staying until almost eleven o'clock at night to visit with her father and mother, Ginny walked backed down the path to the gates to Apparate home after making plans to see them off next week with the rest of the family. Her thoughts were teetering between happiness for her parents and undeserving pity for herself.

She hadn't told them about the baby. If she did, there was no chance that they'd leave for their trip. Someday, after they left, she'd find the nerve to jot the news of their impending grandchild onto a letter for them. Her mother would go barmy but so be it. She could only pray that there was some measure of order to her life then so she could tell her parents to enjoy the rest of their long overdue vacation and not beg them to come home.

But that was for the future far from now. The only future Ginny could envision was one that included a hot bath and, for some reason, a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.

Rubbing her tired face, Ginny reached the gate and Apparated home.

Instead of finding herself in the spacious bathroom as she had envisioned, she found herself in the lobby of her apartment building.

_What on Earth? _she thought, looking around the nearly empty lobby. The only person she could see from the Apparition point behind two large ferns was the scrawny, acne-ridden bellhop sitting at the front desk, his dark green uniform blending perfectly with the walls and carpet.

Shaking her head, she counted to three and focused all her energy on her apartment before she turned.

She felt the beginning squeeze that was normal for Apparition but it stopped almost immediately. Opening her eyes, she found she was still standing in the lobby.

Something was wrong.

There were no stairs or working elevators in the building; it was strictly magical. The bellhop was a Squib who was there to assist the tenants with heavy loads or steer unsuspecting Muggles who wandered in back to the street. In all her months here, she had never even learned the young man's name.

"Excuse me, sir?" she said as she approached the bellhop at his desk. He looked up at her from his copy of _The Evening Prophet _with bulging eyes; a thin sheen of sweat broke out on his nearly maroon forehead. From they way he looked at her, it was almost like he had been expecting her. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I was hoping you could assist me. For some reason, I can't Apparate into my apartment and I need to know if perhaps there's an emergency Portkey or something that can get me inside?"

The nervous man cleared his throat before he haltingly replied, "I, um, I have a note for you, Ms. Weasley. From Mr. Dresden. He asked that you receive it should you come back here tonight." With a trembling hand, he handed her the piece of parchment. "And also these." He placed a large green duffel bag with a faded Harpies logo embroidered on the front of it on the desk followed by her beloved Firebolt. (The broom was a gift from her parents when she came of age) "Please…please have a pleasant evening, miss." Turning swiftly, the bellhop disappeared into a small office before Ginny could grasp what was happening.

Setting aside the letter for the moment, she unzipped her old bag and dug through. She found several items of clothing she hadn't worn in some time along with a few toiletries and her Quidditch gear. A few books, photographs, and her more modest pieces of jewelry lay inside as well. The bag had been charmed to hold much more than it appeared to from the outside. Her fingers shaking, she picked up the parchment and read through the hastily scribbled lines, her ire rising with every word. When she finished, she crumbled the parchment in her hand as she trembled, enraged beyond all reason.

_That evil, foul, Slytherin-to-the-core bastard! _she thought mutinously as cast a quick Shrinking Charm on her broom and stuffed it into her bag. She gathered her belongs and marched back to the Apparition point. Taking a breath to try and steady herself, she turned with full arms and a single focus to launch an Unforgivable curse right at Lionel Dresden's head.

Pellets of rain poured down from the sky and smacked her in the face when she opened her eyes again. The pungent odor of trash and takeaway food assaulted her and she had to double over for a moment to make sure the contents of her stomach stayed where they belonged. The alleyway of the Meridian Hotel in downtown Manhattan was not an ideal Apparition point but as the establishment catered to Muggles and a select few of the wizarding population, it was necessary. The hotel it was private, not the first place one would look for a high-profile potion maker, which was why Lionel always stayed there when he was in New York.

Pushing her already sopping wet hair out of her face, she stalked out of the alley onto the busy sidewalk, quickly rounding the corner and entering the posh hotel lobby, crowded with people.

A dozen or so inquiring eyes fastened onto her as she strode towards the front desk, with her long sundress soaked to her skin and sandals squishing noisily into the plush navy carpet but she was too enraged to care. She had just reached the massive mahogany desk when something caught the corner of her eye.

Lionel, who only two days ago she had thought of with nothing but affection, was standing by a large marble statue near the elevators, next to a willowy brunette in a skintight lavender dress that left very little to the imagination. He was laughing heartily and leaning down to whisper something into the woman's ear as they waited for the doors to open.

Ginny was fortunate that she knew the stories of what Azkaban was like from Ron and from Harry. Otherwise, she would not have hesitated to launch a Cruciatus Curse at his grinning figure.

Somehow, he managed to pull himself away from his companion when he spotted Ginny; he stared, seemingly unsurprised and unperturbed to see her dripping wet and shaking with rage across the room from him. When the elevator opened, he whispered something else to the young woman and nipped none too subtly at her neck before leaving her to walk up to Ginny. The expression he gave her shifted to annoyance, as if Ginny were keeping him from something very important.

"Let's go talk in the bar," he said in a low voice, brushing past her.

She waited until they were seated across from each other in a dark, secluded corner of the bar. "I have never in my life wanted to kill another human being as much as I want to kill you right now," she whispered menacingly. "And I've fought against Death Eaters who murdered my friends and family! You are just the most-"

"What exactly?" He leaned back in his chair casually, signaling for the waiter and ordering a vodka tonic for himself. "Would you like anything?"

Ginny could only stare at him, mouth agape. He was truly the center of his own world.

"You kicked me out of my apartment," she said, her teeth nearly clamped shut. "Left me with only a handful of clothes and a toothbrush. You did that to the woman carrying your child, you son-"

The waiter came back and sat Lionel's drink in front of him. Lionel took a quick sip and rolled his eyes, stifling a grin as if he found the whole situation amusing.

"Let's get the facts straight, darling. That apartment was never yours; my name and mine alone is on all the paperwork and you never paid any of the rent on it. I rightfully returned everything that you brought with into that apartment and kept everything that you bought or was bought for you with my money." He shook his head at her, gesturing flippantly at her stomach. "I told you, clear as day, that I wasn't going to support you in this. If you want to go on with it, that's entirely up to you. But don't think for one second that you're going to take care of yourself and the little rug rat on my dime."

Ginny seethed. The words flew out of her mouth without restraint. "Do you think I will let you get away with this? Fine, I'll move out of the apartment that you only bother to use a few days out of the month if it will please you so. But what you won't give this child with your time or whatever meager amount of love you have, you will make up for with financial support. A few months ago, I remember my friend, Hermione, telling me about certain laws she was studying in her department at the Ministry. Laws that make it a crime for a man to deny support for a child he fathered!"

Lionel studied her carefully as he spoke. "It's only a crime if the mother demands the financial support. But if she were to say, I don't know, sign a piece of parchment that absolves the alleged father of any monetary obligations, it's a non issue."

"And what makes you think that I would ever sign such a piece of parchment?"

Lionel glanced around the nearly empty room; it was early evening in New York so the bar had few customers. The air between them changed faintly, caution overpowering the anger she felt towards him. Something was happening. Something troubling, beyond Ginny's limited control. He leaned forward slightly, the small smirk melting off his face, and motioned for Ginny to do the same.

"Because if you don't," he said, dropping his voice low, "people that you love will suffer greatly."

Laughter was brewing in her chest at the ridiculous statement he had just made but the seriousness residing in his blue eyes quelled it.

"What in Godric's name are you talking about? My father and two of my brothers work for the Ministry of Magic; if any harm came to a member of my family, then-"

"Not physical harm," he corrected, reaching into his jacket pocket. From it, he pulled out a roll of parchment and a small vial filled with an orange-hued liquid. He set them beside one another on the middle of the small table.

"What are those?" Ginny asked, her anxiety rising as she stared down at the mystery items.

"That," Lionel indicated the parchment, "is the contract you will sign that will prevent you from revealing my identity as the biological father, making it impossible to demand any type of child support from me. And that," he nodded towards the innocuous vial, "is the reason that you'll sign it.

"America never fought in your great war with Voldermort; it never seemed in our interest but we couldn't discount the possibility that ya'll would lose. The higher ups in the American wizarding government came to me after it was confirmed that Voldermort had reasserted himself in the world. They had me develop a potion we'd have ready to use if he and his followers should make their way to our shores. We called it UT - short for 'Ultimate Truth'. It's the most potent truth serum on the market; no secret can be kept when a person takes this little beauty. What makes it so unique and effective, though, is that it puts the recipient into a complete state of dreamless sleep. They have no recollection of taking it or of having their memories extracted from their subconscious while under its influence. American operatives could simply collect whatever information they needed from the prisoner and send them back out into the world, allowing no suspicion to arise whatsoever from a sudden disappearance."

Ginny felt cemented to her seat as his words registered. Her stomach rocked and rolled like waves in a stormy sea, the realization paralyzing her.

"You…you gave that to me," she whispered breathlessly, her words choked as her vision blurred. "My mem-you stole my memories from me to use…? What…what did you se-see?"

"Enough," he said simply. "Enough to cost people in your family their jobs as well as a fair amount of heartache: George's drinking binges will make it difficult for parents to want their children to buy from his store. Ron's panic attacks are surely cause for concern, considering his dangerous job. I doubt his wife knows much about that drunken little fling you caught Billy boy with at the World Cup three years ago or that she'd be pleased to learn of it, no matter that it was a one-time thing he's regretted ever since. Much like Percy's superiors would be displeased if they knew he was already seeing his soon-to-be fiancé before she transferred out of his department and out from under his supervision.

"But those are not the worst stories that will come out if you don't sign." Oddly, the smile he gave her was eerily sympathetic. "If the public were ever to find out some of the things that The Boy Who Lived did during and after the war…it would shock them into a stupor."

Ginny shivered, barely suppressing the urge to vomit all over the table.

Visions of all the things Harry had told her about the War and the things he had done to certain Death Eaters after their capture popped into her mind. Harry was a good man at his core but he was not perfect and some of the things he had done during a very select few arrests and interrogations were…unsettling, to say the least. She believed in her heart that every last Death Eater deserved much worse than some of the spells Harry had inflicted on them in his anger; if it had been anyone other than Harry Potter, the public would have shared her view had they learned of it.

But it **was** Harry Potter and the tabloids would have a field day sullying the saint-like image of the young man who had defeated perhaps the most evil living creature ever to have lived.

Ginny would not let that happen.

She'd find a way to care for her baby. If need be, she'd beg on the street for money - she'd sell her own body if she had to. But she would not let Harry be destroyed because she had foolishly put her trust in a man unworthy of it.

"Do you have a quill?" she finally asked a moment later, resigned to the fate she had given herself.

Lionel promptly passed one to her, as well as a small vial of ink, while she carefully unrolled the parchment, trying to avoid getting it wet.

"It's fairly straightforward: my rights are terminated and you do not confirm to anyone that I am the biological father. The memories I took from you will remain locked in a secure vault at the American branch of Gringotts here in New York. They have a self-destroy charm that will take effect when the child reaches seventeen, when I'm free and clear of any financial support obligations, or if the child dies before that time. If it is confirmed by you that I am the biological father to anyone, the staff of Gringotts has strict instructions to release the memories to various news organizations; this also applies should I die before the child turns seventeen and you confirm my identity to anyone."

"What about my family? They know we were together, they'll ask questions when they find out I'm pregnant. And the healer I saw today. She knows your name."

"They can speculate all they want; anyone can so long as you don't confirm their speculations. You can even tell them why you can't if it'll make you feel better. Just wait seventeen years before you tell anyone the truth. As for the healer, she's bound by oath not to reveal information about her patients. I doubt she'll spill the beans to anyone."

Ginny's eyes carefully read over the magical contract; similar to an Unbreakable Vow, the effects of breaking the contract were immediate and irreversible. It was all as he had described it to be. All it required was her signature to take effect.

She laughed quietly and without mirth. "I can't even tell my own child who her father is until she's an adult," she said to herself as she reached for the quill.

"Do you really want her to know what a miserable bastard her old man is before she's old enough to handle it?"

"No," she replied, not even looking up as she signed her name; Ginny viciously stabbed the dot of the 'I' in her name.

She shoved the parchment at him before she stood on rubbery legs, picking up her things to leave.

Right as she turned to leave, she looked down at him; Lionel was tucking the parchment away and finishing the last of his drink as if he had just ended a meeting or dinner with an acquaintance. He looked in a hurry to get back to whomever was waiting for him up in his room.

"It really doesn't bother you, does it?" Ginny asked him incredulously. "Using me, the way that you did, all these years and casting us aside as if we were a hunk of stale cheese?"

Lionel stood and shrugged, leaving a few paper bills on the table to pay for his drink.

"Well, let answer your question with one of my own: Did it bother you, using me the way that you did, all these years so you didn't have to think about the fact that you weren't with the man you really loved?"

Her face burned until it was almost the color of her hair but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing anymore tears fall from her eyes.

"Goodbye Lionel," she said, never taking her eyes off of him. She stopped and cleared her throat before finally saying, "And sincerely, thank you."

"For what?"

"For my daughter."

Not waiting for or expecting a reply, she walked out of the bar with her head held high in the sky.

She kept walking that way, out of the lobby and the front entrance of the hotel, until she hit the street, the rain still cascading down in torrents. There, her shoulders slumped against both the downpour that soaked through her yet again and the weight of what had just happened; what her future now entailed.

Her life would never be the same but somehow, even amidst all the pain and humiliation, she knew that she was doing the right thing.

She lowered her chin to her breastbone, not caring who saw or heard her. It wasn't likely she'd ever be in this swanky neighborhood again. "At least you and I will have each other as Mummy muddles through this," she whispered in the direction of her stomach.

Her musings were interrupted as her shoulder made contact with something solid, almost knocking her to the ground.

"Excuse me," she said without looking up at whomever she bumped into, eager to get back to England and find someplace to stay for the night. The hour would be late at home but the Leaky Cauldron should still be open; hopefully Hannah wouldn't mind if she couldn't pay for a room until the next morning.

"Ginny?"

She had already taken a few steps away when she heard her name said. Her feet locked in place and she couldn't move, despite the rain that was chilling her bones on the otherwise warm evening.

_It's not possible, _she thought numbly as her eyes widened in recognition of the voice. The voice she had heard so often in her dreams. Her mind had to remind her lungs and she sucked in a noisy breath. _There's no way that when I turn around I'll see…_

Slowly, as if she were a figurine on one of Hermione's music boxes, she turned on her heels to face the opposite direction.

The umbrella he carried shielded him from the onslaught of rain. His black trousers matched his stylish sport coat and loafers; his white button-down shirt was spotless and he had forgone wearing a tie. (He hated them; long ago, he said they reminded him of his troll of an uncle) The frames he wore were newer, sleeker than year's past and his hair was bit shorter but still sticking up every which way. The famous scar had faded with time but the brightness of his emerald eyes was exactly as she remembered from three years ago, even twenty feet away and shrouded by the rain.

Her mind took him in but it didn't fully process what she was seeing until he started walking towards her:

Harry Potter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's notes: I want to give a huge thanks to my beta for some really amazing work. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's our first real true Harry and Ginny chapter of the story.**

_It's not real,_ Ginny thought dimly, even as her wide eyes took in Harry's long, lean form as he walked slowly through the sheets of rain. She couldn't let herself believe what she was seeing. _You've just gone completely around the twist._

He was a mirage, an oasis in the desert of her mind. He'd vanish before his name could reach her lips.

She blinked once and slowly opened her eyes.

He was still there.

It was clear from the look of open shock on his face that he didn't know what to make of her either, but nonetheless, he was really there.

"Ginny? Is that you?" Harry asked. His green eyes gazed at her through his glasses, his brows knit together in concern at her disheveled appearance. The shocked look on his handsome face morphed into a mix of trepidation and…something else. It was peculiar; like he was trying to come to a weighty decision and had no idea what the outcome would be.

With great hesitation, he gave her a small smile.

The rain pelted her from all sides, stinging her cheeks and bare arms, but she didn't feel it. She felt nothing but overwhelming joy tinged with jagged edges of fear as she took in the sight of Harry.

Or was it overwhelming fear tinged with jagged edges of joy? She didn't know.

All she knew was that Harry Potter was standing before her and deep inside her, deep within a place in her soul she had forced herself to forget had even existed, some small yet intrinsic missing piece slid seamlessly back into place.

She sucked in a deep breath as her heart and mind met in synch once more to form a truth as solid as granite:

Ginevra Molly Weasley was whole again. With Harry in front of her, she was whole again.

After years of studiously denying to the world (and herself) that she was in any way broken, the second she felt Harry's eyes meet hers it felt as if a light had switched on in a dark room and she could see clearly for the first time in ages.

It felt **wonderful**!

Like that first glorious breath of air after being underwater for a time or that first invigorating sip of water after a long day in the hot sun. The rapturous energy radiated from the fuzzy recesses of her mind to the tips of her toenails.

It was like meeting him at Platform 9 ¾, throwing her arms around him after winning the Quidditch Cup, and seeing him after months apart when she stepped into the Room of Requirement all rolled into one.

It was the happiest she could remember being in a long time.

If only she had any right to tell him, the moment would have been perfect.

Instead of sharing her good news, she settled simply for a tiny smile. "Yes, it's me," Ginny said over the rain. Hastily, she wiped her wet face with her wet hands and brushed her tangled hair back behind her ears, thankful she had chosen to wear a dark blue sundress today standing in the deluge of rain.

This was not how she imagined she would look when she saw him again.

Not that she **let** herself imagine seeing him again. Dreams (or nightmares) didn't count.

Harry nodded carefully at her; his eyes became more guarded and they gave no other sign of what he was thinking or feeling at seeing her again. After quickly raking his eyes over her soaked form, he glanced around the oblivious passersby before reaching into his coat pocket. Effortlessly, he pulled his hand out to reveal a bright yellow umbrella, which he handed over to her. She paused before she reached out to grasp it, their wet hands coming into contact.

The feel of his soft yet calloused fingertips briefly pressed against her own almost sent her reeling. Harry immediately pulled back and shoved his hand back into his jacket pocket as Ginny tried hard to compose herself again.

"The jacket's pockets all have Undetectable Extension Charms on them," he explained tightly, glancing quickly at his shoes. "Birthday gift from Hermione. I can't run anywhere without everything inside it spilling all over the place but I haven't had to use a suitcase in ages."

She laughed, even as tears sprung in her eyes at the sound of his familiar voice. It was as warm and inviting as she remembered. Gratefully, she opened the umbrella and held it over her head.

"It's…it's really good to see you again, Harry," she managed to say, struggling to keep her eyes from leaking. It was the very definition of an understatement but it would do for now. "You look well."

"Thank you. It's…a surprise to see you here." They weren't the words she wanted to hear from him, but at least he could find it in him to speak to her. She'd take that happily. At least he didn't try to lie and say how good she looked. It was one of Harry's many admirable qualities: he had never lied to her.

Too bad she couldn't have extended him the same courtesy.

"What are doing here in New York?" she asked Harry in order to derail her own traitorous thoughts. "I thought…Ron said that you were on assignment somewhere the last time I spoke to him."

Harry nodded, shifting between his feet and throwing a quick look over his shoulder as if he was looking for something. "That was a few weeks ago. It was a joint operation with another Auror office in Africa. A few Dementors were set loose on a village in Nigeria by a warlord under an Imperius Curse. Had to find and arrest the wizard controlling the whole thing. Wasn't pretty. It took a while to get it all sorted out. Robards - the head of the Auror office - wanted me to take a few days off; recharge my batteries and whatnot. I decided to come here and visit…someone." He looked down at the pavement as he spoke the last bit before he immediately pulled his eyes back to her. "So how did you end up here? Aren't you in the middle of the season with Quidditch? Ron mentioned a big match was coming up soon."

"Oh," she said, the rain pounding into her umbrella in time with the beating of her heart. "Yes…the Falcons. We play them this weekend. I just…I came here…" She shrugged weakly, unable to tear herself away from his questioning eyes as she struggled to hold herself together.

She smiled grimly. "I'm afraid my coming here was a bit of an impulse. And a poor one at that."

_Like a great many things I do,_ she added silently, desperate for him to hear her but powerless to say it out loud.

Any apology, after so long and with no contact in their time apart, would sound childish and feeble. There were no words or explanations to justify the hurt she had undoubtedly caused him three years ago but standing across from him, for some strange reason, she still felt it had been for the best. Breaking up with him - hurting him - had been right.

It had been what was the right thing to do for him. Just look at the results:

He stood in front of her with a clean shaven face and a good job; he got to travel the globe, see his best friends whenever he wanted, be adored by the entire Wizarding world, and live his life free of chaos. He was, as Hermione had put it all those months ago, content.

While she stood in front of him and her life appeared as if it were in utter disarray. Which it was. But she'd gouge her own eyes out before telling him.

It wasn't because she thought he'd try to do something stupid, like come to her aid. He had to know, after what she'd done to him, how pointless that would be. No, that wasn't what she was trying to prevent. She had to hide what was happening to her only so the hellish news would not get back to her parents or brothers. If any of them saw her like this and questioned her, she was afraid the whole ghastly tale would come spilling out and they'd all know what Lionel had done. If she had to face the concerned, agonized faces of her family, she knew in a heartbeat she wouldn't be able to deny that Lionel was the father, not in this state.

If that happened, all the memories he stole from her would be available for public consumption.

Bill's marriage could crumble. Percy's career could be in jeopardy. George could lose so much business he might have to close down the great dream he and Fred had shared. Ron's arrests of countless Deatheaters and other supporters of the Dark Arts could face severe scrutiny if his mental health was at all in question. And Harry…

_NO!_ _He will not suffer any more because of me,_ she thought fiercely.

"I should get going. I'll see you back home, I guess. Sometime," Ginny said abruptly, moving to give him back his umbrella while taking a tentative step back.

"No, no. Keep it." Harry grasped the handle of the umbrella, right above where Ginny's own hand was, and edged it back to her. "I can escort you home, if you'd like. You don't look…you look like you need…if you'll…let me just get you home." He nudged his glasses back up from where they'd slid to the tip of his nose, avoiding her eyes again as he reached for her elbow, taking it stiffly in his hand. "What's your address?"

"That's, uh, that's not necessary, Har…Harry." She tried to gently extract herself from his hold while balancing the duffel bag she had forgotten to zip shut; the one that, for the moment, contained all her worldly belongings.

His grip tightened and he began to gently tug her in the direction of the alley she had first Apparated into. "It's no trouble at all. We can go right from the alley, the Muggles won't notice a thing."

"Thank you, but I can manage."

"Ginny, please. I insist."

They were in the filthy alley by themselves and Ginny was growing frantic. Harry couldn't take her home. She didn't have a home to go to. But - despite the best efforts of his aunt and uncle- Harry was a gentleman through and through. He wouldn't let her - or any other miserable bint who had mucked up her life beyond all imagination - go off anywhere by herself if he sensed that something was amiss.

_Noble git, _she thought as she tried again to get free.

"Really, Harry, I am perfectly capable of…-"

"Ginny, for goodness sakes, just let me help…-"

"Harry, let go!"

With one more fierce yank, she managed to pull her elbow free but lost her grip on her bag in the process. A dozen or so items spilled out onto the wet pavement and Ginny scrambled to the ground to retrieve them.

Harry was at her side in an instant.

"I remember you traveling much lighter than this when we…well before. Are you going on an extended holiday?" he asked as they picked up the clothes and knickknacks that lay strewn in the alley.

"Something like that," she muttered as she turned away from him. She didn't want him to see the next in the never-ending supply of tears her body was now able to produce.

Who would ever have thought that one tiny baby - that was really no bigger than a Sickle at this point - could turn her into a human hosepipe?

Turning her head slightly to brush the back of her hand over her moist eyes, she froze as she saw one her most prized possessions laying on the ground only feet away from Harry.

Arthur and Molly Weasley had not had a lavish wedding; only a handful of family and friends had attended the small ceremony. Her father had worn a third-hand suit and her mother had sewn her own wedding dress. The one extravagance of the day was the enchanted flowers Molly had woven into her hair as a veil: arcus violets, a gift from her parents to their only daughter. The velvety petals of the flower shifted colors sporadically; from delicate pink to vibrant green and any other color imaginable. Extremely rare, even in this day and age, Molly had preserved the flowers, drying them and placing an enchantment on them that allowed them to retain their magical color scheme before placing them in a simple oak frame.

The framed flowers had hung on the wall of every bedroom Ginny had ever had: from the Burrow to her (well Lionel's) apartment in London and every home in between, the flowers had come with her. She never traveled with them, too fearful that she might lose them or break the frame and damage the priceless family heirloom. Instead the flowers remained at home, hanging by her bed. Whenever she passed the frame in her bedroom, she'd touch her fingertips to her lips and place them on it. Her own personal superstition; she never liked to think about what would or could happen if, for some reason, she didn't stop and kiss her flowers.

It had only just registered in her mind when Harry's hand landed on the frame. Stunned, she could do no more than stare at him as he picked up the frame and examined it closely for a time as the rain continued to pour down on them.

"Your flowers," he finally whispered to the frame, understanding washing over his features. As soon as his head lifted, she cast her eyes down, unable to see whatever pity he could muster for her in his eyes.

Of course he knew what the flowers were; how many times had he snuck into (or out of) her room the summer after the Final Battle and seen her perform her little ritual?

There had even been a time when those flowers had almost hung in his room - well it would have been their room. He'd asked her to move in with him at Grimmauld Place just before she had finished her seventh year and despite the roar of disapproval her mother would have given about the impropriety of living together before marriage, she had been on the cusp of accepting his invitation. Until…

_Until I let everything go to hell,_ Ginny thought despondently, keeping her eyes focused on the glistening black gravel. _Until I threw away everything and ended up crouched in a dirty alley, with soaking wet clothes and swollen eyes, once again trying to run away from the only man I'll ever really love._

It was quiet between them (save for the torrential rain) but Ginny could feel Harry's eyes on her, studying her closely and she was sure he recognized on some level what had happened: For some reason, she had no home to return to and it was too late for her to barge in on any of her family or friends; somehow, she had ended up in New York with everything she owned.

What he must think of her now.

With shaking hands, she picked up her bag and started stuffing the things she had picked up back into them.

After a moment, she heard Harry sigh before he muttered something quietly. Instantly, all her belongs were back in her bag, save for the flowers, thanks to the quick spell he had cast.

"It's strange," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him. "When I'm upset I find myself forgetting that there's a way to do things with magic; like everything I learned and everything I know flies right out of my head. I used to think it was just because I grew up with Muggles, but maybe there's something else to it…" She cautiously lifted her eyes to find him standing over with her flowers in his hand, dripping wet, his umbrella discarded behind him. He fidgeted, weighing his words in his mind before he said them out loud. "I…have a room here in New York, a hotel suite actually. You're more than welcome to come with me and get cleaned up and have a safe place to stay for the night." He held out a hand to her.

Everything inside of her wanted to say yes; wanted to bolt up from the ground and throw her arms around him, begging for forgiveness. But she thought it wasn't right for him to offer forgiveness or even the room he was talking about.

Harry shouldn't have to take care of her just because she couldn't care for herself.

"Thank you, Harry. That's very kind of you but -"

"If you don't come with me, I'm Apparating straight to the Burrow," he promised, his voice harsh but the look in his eyes gentle. "If I can't get your parents to wake, I'll go to every one of your brothers until-"

"Fine," she whispered, knowing he would do exactly as he said. Taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet, she steadfastly ignored the pleasant tingling that ran up and down her arm at the touch of his hand. Gripping her bag tightly and shutting her eyes, she felt the suffocating sensation that came along with Side-Along Apparation; a few nauseating seconds later, she felt that the ground beneath her was solid and opened her eyes.

Harry's suite, wherever it was, certainly was roomy. The azure colored sitting room they were standing in had room for two comfortable navy striped couches and a matching armchair; the marble fireplace was huge and when she turned, she saw a huge hand-carved dining table with dark cherry wood chairs and a fresh vase of flowers in the center. Tasteful paintings and wall lamps hung around the room and looking out the huge bay window, she thought she could make out some tall, greenish looking statue of a woman in the middle of the water amid the ever-darkening sky. The room was clearly very expensive but still, it didn't feel overly opulent or refined; it felt cozy and inviting.

Harry let go of her hand slowly and held out the wet but otherwise undamaged frame to her. She took it and hugged it to her chest.

"The bathroom is to your left, through the bedroom," he said, pointing behind her. "Take all the time you need." He went over to a phone on an end table. "Is there anything in particular you'd like from room service?"

"No thank you. I'm not hungry," she whispered as he turned his back to her. She moistened her suddenly dry lips. "But, um, thank you. For letting me come here, I mean."

He didn't turn, just pressed buttons on one of those felly-tone things her father used to experiment with. "You're welcome," he said stoically.

She took the hint and made her way into the bedroom, leaving her frame on a table by the bed before going into the large bathroom, stripping off her sopping clothes and piling them as neatly as she could by the sink. She found a clean nightgown in her bag and set it out before she turned on the spigot and stepped inside. The warm water of the shower was soothing and she found herself lingering under the spray as the tension melted off of her. In here, she could pretend that her life was fine; that she had a home and a man who loved her and that the man was eagerly awaiting the birth of the child she carried just as much as she was. But almost before she knew it, the water turned cold and reality set back in.

Dressing quickly, she hurried out of the bathroom with her things so Harry could freshen up himself. When she walked barefoot back into the bedroom, she saw the door was shut.

_I don't remember shutting it_, she thought as she put her hand on the knob. She paused when she heard a muffled voice speaking from behind the wood; slowly she eased the door open a crack to see what was going on.

Harry was pacing around the room, his clothes dry but his messy raven locks still wet and he was running his hand through them, exasperated. He had a small black square pressed to his ear that he was also speaking apologetically into.

"I know that we had plans but something came up and…I'm sorry you waited at the restaurant for so long by yourself and that I didn't call until now…No, I understand that you rearranged your class schedule to see me but this was an entirely unforeseeable event…It's not anything like that…Yes…No! Merlin's beard, Meredith! I've practically been raised by the woman's family, I couldn't just leave alone and upset on a sidewalk in the middle of New York!"

Ginny gasped and shut the door a bit too loudly. Harry had to have heard that. She could still hear him but his voice was much quieter now. Backing away slowly until her knees hit the soft king sized bed, she collapsed back onto it and hung her head.

_He's not here just to recharge his batteries or whatever it was he said,_ she thought, pushing her toes morosely into the plush carpet. _He's visiting __**her**__. He's supposed to be here, in this room, with __**her**__. Not with me._

"Her" was Meredith Oxley, the young witch Harry had been seeing exclusively since Ginny had ended things with him. Ginny only knew her name; that she had curly blonde hair whiter than Luna's, an even milkier completion, and stunning hazel eyes; and few other tidbits of information she had gleaned from the conversations she had heard about her among Ginny's own friends and family. She always found a reason to excuse herself from a group or a conversation whenever Meredith's name came up.

Harry was free to date whomever he wanted. Ginny was free to do her best to not acknowledge that fact.

A few moments later, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Ginny? Can I come in?"

She rolled her eyes and bit back a snort. It was **his** room; why was he asking her permission for anything? "Of course."

Harry entered, carrying his jacket gingerly over one arm as he pushed the door open with the other.

He nodded towards a closet. "Just going to hang this up," he said, walking to the door.

"I'm sorry," she said, brushing invisible lint off her nightgown, "that you canceled your plans because of me. You didn't have to do that."

He carefully hung his jacket before he turned back to her. "Of course I did. We're…well we **were** friends, at one time. If you saw me in the street, with no umbrella and no place to stay for the night, you'd help me out. Right?"

This time, she couldn't hold back her unladylike snort. "Harry, believe me you wouldn't be able to end up in the situation that led me to be soaking wet and homeless in the middle of strange city. There'd be no need for me to help you at all so the question of whether or not I'd do it is moot."

"So you are homeless then?" He raised his eyebrows at her, leaning against the wall across from where she sat. "If you don't mind my asking, how did that happen?"

"I'd, uh, really rather not say, if that's all right with you. It's a bit of…recent situation and I'm still adjusting. Say, what was that thing you were talking in to?" she asked, eager to divert attention away from her. "I've never seen one of those things."

Harry looked like he wanted to say something else but instead reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the object, tossing it lightly to her.

"It's called a cellular phone. Muggle invention. It's a telephone that you can carry around with you whether you go. Helps people stay in touch easier."

"Where on Earth did you get it?"

"It was an anniversary gift." Harry paused. "From Meredith. That's who I was just talking to. She's…I've been seeing her for quite a while."

Ginny studied the phone and did her best not to scowl at the little black object or worse, transfigure the thing into a porcupine she could shove right in her ear.

"I know," she replied quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "My family all says that she's very nice. But I thought she was a witch. How does she know about things like celly-tones?"

"Cell phones and she knows about them because she's like me, raised by Muggles. But better Muggles. Like Hermione's parents. She's the only one in her family with any magic at all so she uses phones and computers and regular post to stay in touch with them. She likes the phones better than using the Floo because they're a lot less messy."

He looked down at his shoes the whole time but he spoke of Meredith with polite affection.

"She's from Scotland but she teaches here in the States when she's not doing work for Gringotts. She's the foremost expert on underwater treasure excavations in the world. Fleur introduced us after you and I…."

Somehow, despite having to swallow down a mouthful of bile, she managed to give him a smile as she tossed the device back to him.

"She sounds…lovely," Ginny said, a little too sweetly for her taste. "You should have her get one of those things for my Dad. He'd go barmy over it.

"I'll keep that in mind for Christmas." Harry gave her a soft smile as he pocketed his phone but the smile fell into a sharp line as he asked his next question. "What about you? How's your bloke, Lionel? Can't seem to open a _Witch Weekly_ without seeing his picture plastered in adverts for 'Vial O' Vigor' or some nonsense across every other page."

"Since when do you read _Witch Weekly_?" Ginny asked with a fake giggle, getting up quickly to go to the bureau and look in her bag for…something. Anything at all. Anything so she didn't have to look at Harry when thinking of Lionel.

"The receptionist in the Auror Office always has a few piled on her desk. Gets right boring in there sometimes late at night so I pick one up occasionally." She heard him move and felt him right behind her; his breath was close to her neck and she felt faint. "What's he doing tonight while his girlfriend wanders around the streets of New York all by herself?"

_Probably wrapped around the slag he was with at the hotel. Or maybe he finished with her already and he's out finding a new one._

"I couldn't tell you," she whispered dimly. "We…that is to say he and I…we aren't…I'm not his girlfriend anymore."

On impulse, she looked up into the mirror in front of her but knew at once it was a mistake. She had to grip onto the side of the bureau to stay upright.

Harry's jaw was set so tight she wouldn't be surprised if it snapped. His green eyes glowed softly as they burned a hole in the space between her shoulders and he was taking in deep, hulking breaths, as if he were trying to keep himself calm.

"What's going on, Ginny?" he asked in a low voice filled with fire. "Why are you here by yourself? Why couldn't you go to your family? You have all the things that mean the most to you in that stupid bag and you can't go back to your place in London. Did he do something to you? Are you hurt or-"

"Harry, please stop!"

She whirled around and met his eyes with her own, her breath quickening and her pulse racing with the speed of a Snitch. He was only a few inches from her and she could feel her legs shake as the masculine, clean scent of him permeated her senses. The urge to run her fingers through his wet hair was staggering. Her mouth opened, but no sound could escape from her dry, aching throat and her knuckles hurt with the force she was using to hold onto the bureau as he stared back at her with flared nostrils and unblinking eyes. It occurred to her that she was standing in front of him in a nightgown that barely went to her knees and left her toned arms bare.

The room was insufferably hot all of a sudden.

_Do NOT launch yourself at him and kiss him! I repeat, do NOT launch yourself at him and kiss him until nothing else matters anymore!_

There was no greater task Ginny could think of than turning her head away from him but it allowed her to take a breath and control herself again.

"Harry," she murmured, shutting her eyes as she gathered her wits back. "I appreciate, more than you will ever now, what you did for me tonight. It means the world to me that you can still be so kind to me after everything that happened between us. But what happened between Lionel and me…it's extremely complicated and I can't even get my own head wrapped around it. He didn't hurt…I mean I'm all right -physically- but I can't handle talking about it tonight. I'm sorry but I just can't." She sighed heavily. "Please…I'm sorry."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head.

Harry had backed away from her, staring off to the side with a vacant expression, his hands locked in fists and his body rigid. She watched him take a deep breath to relax and ever so slowly uncurl his hands. It seemed like forever before he turned back to her.

"I should…I should let you get some rest," he finally managed to say. "You've obviously had a long day. You can have the bed, I'll set up the couch." He held up a hand to halt the argument she was about to make. "I insist. If you want to be a pill and sleep on the floor, be my guest. But either way, I'm sleeping in the living room so you might as well just use the bed."

He brushed past her into the bathroom. No sooner had Ginny let out a quiet sigh of relief than Harry came back, holding something in his hand.

"Take this. It's a Sleeping Draught. It'll help you get a full night in."

The second the vial was in her hand, she could her mother's voice in her head telling a miserable and exhausted Fleur about certain herbs that could help her overcome the restless nights she felt towards the end of her first pregnancy, explaining with the voice of endless experience that taking a Draught of any kind during pregnancy could be very dangerous for the baby.

Ginny immediately placed the vial back in Harry's outstretched hand.

"No thank you," she said quickly, going to bed and starting to turn it down.

Harry stayed right with her, undeterred.

"You should really take this. You still look all geared up and it'll take you forever to fall asleep on your own."

"I'll be alright, I don't need your medicine. It's yours. You take it."

"I brought plenty of others with me. It's not any trouble."

"Harry, thank you, but I can't take that."

"Of course you can. I've seen you take these before."

"Well I can't take them now!"

"It's perfectly safe; the only way it wouldn't be is if you were-" He stopped speaking; to Ginny's ears it sounded as if he might not be breathing.

"Pregnant," she finished for him, forcing herself to turn and face him. He looked like someone had just told him there was another piece of Voldermort out there somewhere to finish off and that the Dark Lord was still alive in some form. It killed a small part of her soul to do it, but she needed to be honest with him.

For once.

"I'm pregnant, Harry," she said, sinking down onto the bed and wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. "I just found out yesterday."

He blinked at her uncomprehendingly, the vial hanging limply in his hand. It fell to the floor and it was a long beat before he bent to scoop it back up, retreating swiftly to the bathroom as Ginny rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try and warm herself up.

After a moment or two, he returned, still pale but with a sharp glint of anger in his eyes. He paced back and forth around the room in slow steps, setting Ginny's nerves on end.

"You haven't told your parents or your brothers, have you?"

"No. I was going to, today, but Mum told me all about the trip her and Dad are going to take. I thought if they knew they might stay and they deserve something nice like that. I'll send an owl to them after they leave when -well if- I get everything worked out with myself. The boys and Hermione, they don't know either. I'm still…rather getting used to it myself."

He stopped suddenly, directly across from her.

"And Lionel? What does he say to all this? Is that why you're not…with him anymore?"

The truth rose up from the pit of her stomach to her lips and she so desperately wanted to let it spill out. Let him try and help her work a way out of this whole thing.

But if she did, he could be damaged beyond repair with the memories Lionel would release to public. She'd die a thousand fiery deaths before she let Lionel Dresden try to destroy Harry Potter.

_You can do this_, she told herself with Harry's eyes on her, lowering her hands and placing them behind her. _It's just telling him a white lie; you're good at that._

"It's not his," she said unblinkingly, digging her nails into the flesh of her palms. "The baby isn't Lionel's; that's why were not together. He found out…that I cheated on him and he ended it."

That wasn't as horrible as she thought it was, lying like that and the truth (and all its heinous consequences) was safe. Maybe it would be easy to convince the rest of her family she could bounce between men with the ease of a rubber ball. She had certainly appeared to convince Harry.

He was shocked into silence before he scoffed quietly and cleared his throat, scratching fiercely at the back of his head. "Well who's baby is it, then?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

"That's not your concern."

"Ginny-"

"It doesn't matter. I'm raising her by myself."

The anger and annoyance left his face at her words. For a brief time, he looked as if he were in some sort of pain before he schooled his features.

"So it's a girl then?"

The fight left Ginny as well. "Not officially no," she admitted, trying not to wince as she pried her nails off her tender skin. "But I know in my heart she's a girl. Mother's intuition, I think they call it."

Harry nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked drained and much older than his almost twenty-four years.

"Congratulations then, I suppose." He knocked randomly on the wall a few times, his mouth moving as if he wanted to say something else.

Instead, he turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Ginny to herself. In a trance, she slid beneath the covers and rested her head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling and trying to retrace the steps of her life to see what led her to this moment: pregnant by a foul, unrepentant git, homeless, and lying in a bed while the man she loved was just outside the door, most likely thinking the worst of her yet again.

It was hours before she was able to fall into a restless sleep.

_**The first thing Ginny was aware of was that she couldn't open her eyes. Try and try as she might, the lids would not open. They felt weighted down with lead bars.**_

_**But truthfully, she didn't mind. Wherever she was, she felt soft and peaceful. Safe**_

_**And while opening her eyes was a challenge, she could move other parts of her body. Her head, for example. She turned it to the side and felt the brush of cool, clean linen against her cheek, and she snuggled further into it. Her toes could curl, as well, along with her feet. They were deliciously warm and she burrowed them further underneath the heavy blankets that were draped across her. Swiping her tongue across her lips, she discovered they were dry and cracked. She licked them with what little saliva she had to moisten them up. Her back ached slightly but that could be remedied by shifting to her side, which she did, revealing again in the coolness of the sheets and the warmth of the blanket.**_

_**The only real discomfort she felt was in her arm. It itched slightly. Unthinking, she brought her hand over to scratch the itch but instead of encountering skin, she felt tightly wrapped gauze.**_

'_**What's this?' she thought. Pressing her nail lightly into the gauze, she felt a tiny sting. Like the bandage was covering up a cut.**_

"_**Oh Godric," she gasped, her eyes flying open, the weight of whatever medicine she had been given eradicated with the realization of where she was and what had happened.**_

_**The mirror in the bathroom of the girl's dormitory…the ugly face staring back at her…the failed Glamour Charms…the explosion…the painful lashes as the glass grazed her skin…the knowledge of what she was…what she would never be again.**_

"_**Ginny? Can you hear me, love? Say something."**_

_**The voice…she knew that voice but what was it doing here with her? **_

"_**Harry?"**_

_**Turning her head, she saw Harry standing over, equal parts worry and relief etched onto his tired face. He reached up to stroke her hair as she looked up at him in shock.**_

"_**Thank Merlin you finally woke up," he told her, gazing at her as if she were something precious and beautiful. "We were so worried. The Draught they gave you was supposed to wear off after twelve hours but Madame Pomfrey said that you were so exhausted, it kept you asleep for nearly two days.**_

"_**But it's all right. You needed the rest, after what you went through." He wordlessly Summoned a chair that pulled up behind him and he dropped down into it. "Pomfrey took care of all the cuts and stopped the bleeding. The scars should fade in a week or so, right around the time you get out of the Hospital Wing."**_

_**The tears pricked behind her eyes and she let out a choking sob as his words rolled over.**_

"_**I should have scars," she gritted out. "I deserve them for the way I feel; for how ugly I am inside."**_

"_**No," Harry whispered to her, leaning down and kissing the tears as they tracked down her cheeks. "You're beautiful, in every way possible. But you're in pain, love. You don't need scars. Take the word of someone who has a few. What you need is help dealing with everything that's happened." **_

_**He pulled back, resuming the stroking of her hair. She saw the whiskers covering his jaw and the dark circles under his watery eyes.**_

"_**Some of it's my fault. I go on and on about how strong you are that I don't let myself see how much you went through last year. We all lost so much -friends and family- that's its not right to think that any one person should come through it unscathed. No matter how amazing," he bent to kiss her forehead, "brilliant," another kiss to her nose, "and strong she is." He planted a lingering kiss on her dry lips and she felt her heart soar even as her broken spirit waged war with it.**_

"_**How?" she asked when he pulled back. "How am I supposed to get through this?"**_

"_**You talk. You tell people how you feel. You be honest with them and understand they won't think any less of you no matter what you say. You find a Healer or a Muggle doctor who specializes in helping people understand their feelings and you work with them to get back on your feet." He took one of her hands in both of his and brought it to his lips. "You be with your Mum and Dad and just let them love their daughter without trying to make them forget about what happened to Fred. You let Hermione, Neville, and Luna help you here at school when Ron and I are on missions. You go out on your broom and you fly without worrying about holding the Quaffle or what the recruiters are going to think of you; just fly for the hell and the freedom of it.**_

"_**You let me take care of you now the way you took care of me this summer. Let me hold you when you need to cry and tell awful jokes when you need to smile. I'll love you enough for both of us until you're able to love yourself again." He sniffed trying to hold back his own tears unsuccessfully. "And while I do all that, you let yourself heal so we can build a wonderful life together when you find your way to the other side of this."**_

_**It felt impossible when she tried to imagine doing all that but hearing Harry say the words and seeing the fervent devotion for her in his eyes, she started to think maybe, just maybe, it could be possible to get better.**_

_**Ginny nudged the corners of her mouth up into a small smile. It felt strange to smile and actually mean it again.**_

"_**Okay," she said, reaching up so he could hold both her hands. "I'll…I'll get better. For us."**_

_**Harry smiled and bent down to kiss again. He pulled back and brought his lips to her ear.**_

"_**I love you, Ginny," he whispered, not an ounce of lie in his voice.**_

"I love you too, Harry," she mumbled, smiling even wider.

Nothing answered her and when she peeled her eyes open, instead of Harry's smiling face, her eyes met a burst of bright sunlight. She realized she was in the bed of Harry's hotel suite in New York and waking from a lovely -albeit painful- memory of their past together. His promise to stand by her and help her heal from the lifelessness she felt after the War ended was something she hadn't thought of in so long yet it was so clear in her mind, as if she were there all over again.

He had kept his end of the bargain. She had gotten better, over time and with Harry's care and support.

But their "wonderful life together" wasn't meant to be. And that was all on her.

It had been necessary to leave him; she knew that as sure as she knew the sky was blue. He gave her so much love and support during that awful time, he wasn't focused on anything else. His love and attention for her may have pulled her back from the darkness but it had been nothing but disastrous for him:

It made Harry snap at the press if they came near her when they went out together and those angry bursts gave Rita Skeeter and all her clones miles of column inches to further defame their favorite target.

It made his performance as Auror suffer to the point where Robards and Kingsley had met with him in private and discussed the option of Harry exploring taking a sabbatical from training, or even seeing if there was another career he had any interest in pursuing.

It made him vulnerable to surprise attacks.

It had even, in one horrible moment, almost cost him his life.

Ginny shuddered, her mind starting to wander back to that lovely spring day when Ron had Apparated right into the locker room after her last match at Hogwarts to tell her that Harry had…

_Don't think of that now! It does no good, _she commanded, forcing herself to keep the memories at bay. _You did the right thing when you ended it. He never would have realized on his own how much better off he is without you_. _Just get back to England before Harry wakes up_. She pushed the covers off and stretched, trying to expel the physical pain she felt at thinking of that day from her body. As she moved, her stomach rolled viciously and she paused to try and let it settle.

Her eyes caught the note with her name scrawled on it sitting on the bedside table right next to her flowers. Warily, she picked it up and opened it to read:

_Ginny,_

_The room is paid for until next Thursday. Please feel free to stay here and charge anything you want to my account at the hotel._

_I'm sorry to leave so abruptly but there were things I needed to attend to at my home. I won't be able to see your parents off so please give them my best regards before they leave. I'll try and drop them a line myself._

_Your personal news is your own and I won't discuss it with anyone until you feel comfortable talking about it._

_I'm not sure when I'll see you again but I wish you the best of luck in your future._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

Ignoring her stomach, she got up and walked to the closet, throwing the door open wide. His jacket was gone and when she went into the bathroom, she knew there'd be nothing of him there either.

Harry was gone from her life again.

_Its good_, she tried to convince herself. _Trying to be around him is one less complication in your life. It's for the best._

As soon as the thought formed, Ginny's stomach rebelled violently and she raced to the bathroom. Kneeling in front of the loo, she emptied the meager contents of her stomach. Reaching up weakly to flush, she sunk back down to the cool floor and shut her eyes as her stomach continued to swirl.

"Really?" she asked in a rough voice, blindly patting her stomach. "I love you but really? Mummy's not going through enough right now? You have to decide to throw morning sickness into the equation, you little-"

Pulling herself up, she retched once again into the bowl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes: A little less angst, a little more funny in this chapter. Don't worry, there's loads more angst to look forward to in the future. I pinky promise. Thanks as always to some incredible work from my beta. Any and all comments greatly appreciated as well.**

**Neverland for Wizards and Witches**

"You need to go and take a holiday."

Lying prone across the shaggy, brightly colored bathroom mat, Ginny pushed her limp hair out of her eyes and squinted up. At first, she could only make out blinding streams of white and yellow from the ceiling light and the bits of early morning sun peeking in through the window, but as her eyes adjusted, long, blonde hair framing a pale, thin face emerged.

Luna's all-seeing blue eyes stared back at Ginny, unblinking.

"You're a good friend, Luna," Ginny moaned as her head pounded in perfect time with the swirling of her stomach, "and one of the bravest people I'll ever know, but sometimes you just go and say things that other people do not understand."

The young woman smiled down at her serenely, kneeling beside her ill friend.

"That's because they're only listening with their ears," she explained airily. She reached up and picked up a wet, discarded washcloth from the counter. With utmost care, she began dabbing the sticky, cold sweat from Ginny's forehead.

"I think your child will be very healthy and strong, like a Tri-Eyed Namprod," she continued. "The female Tri-Eyed Namprods are known to be very ill in early pregnancy before they give birth to their offspring. Though of course, you're not exactly like a Namprod; they expel vomit through their lower left nostril, after all. But I think perhaps the principle is still the same. Your son will be born very fit and hearty."

Ginny sighed in relief as the cool water soothed her hot skin. The few stories she had managed to bear hearing her mother tell to her sisters-in-law about morning sickness had never made it seem this awful. It was usually almost evening by the time she felt somewhat human again and then the day would end, and the whole bloody cycle of nibbling on crackers in between bouts of vomiting would begin anew.

"Daughter," she corrected Luna softly, her eyes falling shut at her strange friend's ministrations.

"You'll know for sure when you meet him."

"Her."

Ginny would have argued her case more vigorously if not for two things: Using her mouth for anything other than retching would only lead to more retching and the fact that Luna had taken her in and put a roof over her head when there was nowhere else to turn.

When she had returned from America, she had headed straight for Holyhead to consult with the team about her future. Before Ginny embarked on finding a new place to live, she had to see if she would still have a job with which to support herself.

Not surprisingly, when she informed the team of her impending motherhood, she didn't.

Surprisingly, they weren't completely without mercy. Her captain, Gwenog Jones (perhaps sensing there was more going on than Ginny just being pregnant) arranged for her to be placed on injured reserve, which would enable her to collect about a third of her normal salary for up to a year. It was more than she had expected, but unfortunately it wouldn't be enough to live on until after the baby came when she could play Quidditch again. If the Harpies or any other team would be willing to take her on, of course.

Not that she'd ever bet a single Knut on that happening.

Her parents had left for their year-long trip a few days after she came home from New York on the morning she found Harry's note. She had left the hotel with a heavy heart, despite the fact that she would have had free shelter for over a week had she stayed. There was just too much of Harry's presence in the room for her comfort. With her parents gone, so went her only reasonable source of lodging. The Burrow was being occupied by the young couple her parents were renting to and her brothers (along with their own ever-expanding families) weren't ideal because to live with them would mean she'd have to explain her predicament. Seeing as she didn't want any of them locked up in Azkaban for hexing Lionel or any other man they would suspect of being the father, she kept mum on the details of her personal life (as well as discreetly passing on the flowing goblets of Firewhiskey) when they gathered for dinner at the Three Broomsticks after bidding their parents farewell.

Saying goodbye to her parents was even more trying than she had imagined. Letting them hug her close and ply her with kisses and well wishes before they Apparated away was close to unbearable. She wanted to pull her mother aside and whisper the news of her baby into the older woman's ear-confess all of her hopes and her fears for her baby-but she couldn't. The baby was her responsibility to take care of and she couldn't do that if she still needed her own parents to take care of her. Her mum would be furious, no doubt, when the owl came sometime in the future to announce Ginny's news, but hopefully she'd be able to include that she had also secured employment and a place to live as well to ease her mother's mind.

As unlikely as that seemed at the present moment, when her days were spent lying on Luna's bathroom floor.

Luna had truly been a gift from above when they had run into each other at the Leaky Cauldron a few days ago. Ginny had been staying there since her return, telling Neville and Hannah that she had ended things with Lionel but not about the baby or losing her spot on the team. All she said was she had suffered a small bone contusion and the team wanted her to sit for a few weeks to fully recover. Her good friend and the kind Hufflepuff he married had offered her a room for the week free of charge while she looked for a new place. Unfortunately, with no job, there was nothing she could afford.

She was sitting by herself in the dining room at the end of the week, trying to find the courage to tell Neville about the baby and lack of job to see if he and Hannah could offer her a room for a fraction of what they usually charged, when Luna unexpectedly glided in.

Ginny broke into one of the first true smiles she had had in some time at the sight of her old friend.

"Ginny!" the small woman had exclaimed vaguely, walking towards the happily surprised redhead's table.

She got up, eager to embrace Luna but before she could get her arms around her friend, Luna stopped in front of her and looked her up and down.

"You're pregnant," Luna proclaimed instantly, "with a baby."

Ginny was gob smacked, her arms frozen mid hug.

"How…how did you know that I'm…I'm," she squeaked faintly, glancing around the nearly empty room to make sure no one could hear, "having a baby? I'm not even ten weeks along and we haven't seen or heard from each other in-"

"Nearly a year, yes I know," Luna replied, leaning forward to finish the forgotten hug before sitting down. Ginny dazedly followed suit. "We were both busy with our careers. I was working to establish a reserve for Phauz Phasanlies in the North Pole - it's really a bit chilly up there - and you were throwing red balls into hoops. Time got away from us, as it's prone to do. Perhaps someone should look into inventing a leash or a cage for it. I imagine that-"

"But Luna, how did you know just by looking at me that…?"

"There's a child inside you? Quite simple really. You're surrounded by Infansite Fairies."

"What?"

"Don't worry, they're invisible and very tiny. They won't disturb you; they'll just merely announce your pregnancy to everyone who can see them. Which is an extremely limited number so if it is a secret, it should be safe. But anyhow, congratulations to you and to your baby's father. Oh I'm sorry. Please forgive my assumption. Does the baby even have a father?"

The matter of fact, though dreamy, way she asked threw Ginny for a moment.

"No," she finally answered firmly, tracing a pattern on the wooden table with her fingernail, "this baby has no father. There's just me and I'm afraid even that might not be good enough. I don't even have a job or a place to live at the moment."

Luna nodded before her eyes became even wider and she smiled brightly.

"You should stay with me for a bit," she declared.

Ginny stopped her mindless tracing, sure that she hadn't heard right. There was no way that Luna had just walked into the Leaky Cauldron with an answer to her prayers; not with the luck Ginny was playing with recently.

"Are you saying that I could…move in with you? Right now, today?"

Luna nodded.

"I have a spare room-well after I clean out the swamp samples I took in Brazil two years ago I will-and we have ever so much catching up to do."

"But I don't have a lot of money to pay for rent or groceries. I won't just leech off of you like that."

"Leeches have really gotten such a horrid reputation. Healers have been using them for centuries to treat and cure some ailments. Even some Muggle doctors find them to be beneficial. If you were a leech, it would not be a bad thing. But you're not. You're my friend and I would very much like to help you. Besides, with the skyrocketing sales of _The Quibbler_ over the past few years, I don't worry about money that much. If you do, you can pay me back someday with it if you wish, but I'd much rather prefer your friendship and company over your Galleons. Please say that you will."

And with that bit of compassion, Ginny found herself a free home. A **temporary** free home. She'd find a job, save up for her own place, and find a way to make Luna accept repayment for the bottomless kindness she'd shown Ginny.

As soon as she could make it through the day without kneeling before the loo four or five times, she'd get right on it.

"I wasn't being strange before, when I said you needed to take a holiday." Luna grasped one of Ginny's hands and, with surprising ease and strength, lifted her up from the floor, propping the redhead across from her in the tiny bathroom. "You really do need to get away. The course of your entire life changed in the matter of a few weeks. You need to let your mind settle so you can focus on the future."

Ginny shook her head and tried to keep a hold of her temper.

"My mind doesn't have time to settle, Luna. I have less than eight months before this baby arrives and I can't waste any of them, not when there's so much left to do! This is my responsibility and mine alone. I cannot afford to make any mistakes. My girl needs me to get this right."

She grimaced against the gnawing of hunger in her stomach, trying to ignore it. As soon as she put a bite of food in it, her traitorous stomach would launch a full scale assault against it.

Luna eyed her curiously.

"Didn't your Healer give you a potion to help you feel better at your last appointment?"

Ginny only wrinkled her nose in reply at the thought of the neon pink potion batty old Healer Wellby prescribed for her. He claimed it would relieve any symptom of pregnancy while giving her pale skin a healthy glow. So far, the only glow was coming from the sweat glistening off her forehead as she struggled to tame her body's aversion to food. From the list of Healers she had been given, only one was able to take her on as a patient and given that the man had probably been a septuagenarian when Auntie Muriel had been a babe, it was easy to see why he had room in his schedule for her. She was on a waiting list for the other two, but it could be weeks or months before she was able to get in. The only other people she knew to ask for pregnancy help were her brothers' wives and telling them was tantamount to telling her brothers.

It was tempting to see if she could track down Healer Nell Nixon, the young woman who had assisted her the morning she had almost terminated her pregnancy. Ginny didn't know what she would have done if not for Nell's empathy and her absolute commitment to doing right by her scared patient. Nell had told her she didn't practice in the area, but perhaps, like most other rules, there was an exception to be found.

"Perhaps," Luna chimed in, "the reason you still feel so ill is because your recent troubles are putting a great strain on you, physically and mentally. Pardon my bluntness, but you are, as they say, wound tighter than a Fleenick during mating season. Maybe if you were to go to a place where you didn't constantly think of your troubles, you'd feel better. And the healthier you feel, the better that is for the baby. Didn't you just say that your son needs you to do everything right for him?"

_For the last time, it's a girl and that's dirty pool, Lovegood. Using the baby to argue your case,_ Ginny thought, her mind rolling over Luna's words and the surprising amount of sense they made.

She eyed Luna through hooded lids.

"Let's say for a moment that I agree with you. Where in Merlin's name could I even go for a vacation? I have no money to spend and I don't want to be in a strange, foreign place in case something with the baby goes…" Ginny involuntarily shook, not able to say the words. "Just in case I need a Healer, for some reason. Since this is your brilliant idea, do you know of any places that fit that bill?"

Without any hesitation, Luna said, "Of course."

She got up without another word and skipped happily away as a baffled Ginny stared after her swinging blonde curtain of hair.

"Auntie Luna is what your Gran would call an odd duck," Ginny said quietly after a minute, rubbing her stomach and biting back a yawn, "but she means well and we'll always have to be grateful to her for giving us a place to stay. Although if she ever tries to give you anything for a pet, let Mummy have a look at it first, okay? Just to make sure it doesn't eat fingers or pass poisonous gas or something like that. Same rules apply with Hagrid when you're off at Hogwarts someday when you're…"

Against her will, her heavy eye lids slid closed and her head lolled back against the lip of the tub. The fog of sleep seemed as if it had just washed over her when Luna's voice burst uninvited into her consciousness.

"Ginny, wake up! You need to wake up It's almost time to leave! Hurry!"

The frantic nature of Luna's tone (a tone she didn't even knew Luna possessed) startled Ginny awake. Her body, stiff and aching from lying awkwardly against the tub for who knows how long, fought to right itself as Luna prodded her up and out of the bathroom. Her feet were almost numb from sleeping in her trainers and Luna had to support Ginny's weight.

"What's going on?" She winced against the bitter aftertaste her apparently long nap had left in her mouth. "Why did you let me sleep so long? And what are going on about with leaving?"

Luna slid Ginny's body onto a bright turquoise sofa and went over to the orange polka-dotted armchair, picking up Ginny's duffel bag before racing back and forth in a blur of blonde hair through the small apartment, the clanking of her bottle cap necklace drowned out by the pounding of her bare feet.

"I was making your travel arrangements while you slept," she called out, her voice echoing throughout the space. "It was quite complicated. You only would have asked pointless questions and made silly arguments if you were awake so I just left you to sleep. It was much easier for me that way but it still took a fair bit of time. That's why I have to get you packed before the Portkey activates; if you miss it, you'll only start thinking with your brain again and you won't go."

"I won't go where?"

Luna paused in the archway between the bedroom and the hallway. "To Hastom."

All vestiges of sleep vanished in that instant. Ginny's eyes bugged to the point where they rivaled Luna's in size.

_Is she INSANE?_

"Are you INSANE?" Ginny shrieked. "You want me to go there? To Hastom?" She eyed her old school chum with suspicion. "Do you even know what people say about that place?"

Luna shook her head sadly, turning back to go into the bedroom.

"People who say things like that about Hastom have never been to Hastom. They don't know what it's really like there or the beauty of the people who live there. They create a delightfully tacky story in their heads from ancient rumors and parrot them over and over to others until, eventually, whatever they say about the village of Hastom is accepted as fact. We who truly do frequent the village laugh about it over a Butterbeer and crystallized ginger at the local pub."

Ginny sat stock still, trying to digest what her friend was saying about the ancient wizarding village that was a source of endless fascination for the entire magical community, so secretive that the entire village was kept under the strictest concealment charms somewhere in the midst of the English countryside. No wizard or witch, dead or alive, had ever been able to forcibly penetrate it. Hastom was a separate world, kept away from prying eyes.

She had heard so many frightful stories of Hastom her whole life; stories so unbelievable that most folks in their right minds would scoff good-naturedly at their absurdness. But when the stories were said to be about Hastom, most witches and wizards hung on every word with bated breath. There were stories of a people who did everything from conjure monsoons out of nothing but boredom to fathers burying newborn baby girls alive beneath the earth in the hope that they'd grow out of the ground into a strapping son. Hastom residents could be two feet tall and swarthy with pickled green skin and white hair that hung to their toes or they could be purple and magenta striped giants with claws for hands and fluorescent Mohawks. It all depended on who you asked. She couldn't recall meeting anyone who didn't have an even more terrifying story than the one she heard previously to tell about Hastom and its mysterious inhabitants.

Of course, none of them had ever been to Hastom. Ginny had never known that she had met anyone who had set foot in Hastom before.

Until now.

"You go to Hastom? Often? How do you even get there? I thought - well I **heard** - that you can't enter the village without-"

"Proper magical clearance from the Council of Hastom," Luna finished as she reentered the living room with a large pile of Ginny's clothes, neatly shoving them into the magically enhanced bag. "Yes, that's true. The townspeople have always been very concerned about who they let reside in their homeland. Contrary to what you may have misguidedly believed, the citizens of Hastom are very peaceful and strive their utmost to maintain that peace."

Ginny shook her head, impatient for answers. "But how do **go** there? You're not a citizen of that place, you live here in London. And when you're not here, you're off traveling to the ends of the Earth. How are you a citizen?"

"I'm not nor have I ever been. But my mother was. She and her family lived there for generations until my grandfather passed away suddenly and my grandmother, in deep mourning, decided to leave Hastom with my mother. Because my mother had been born there, her citizenship was lifelong. She never wanted to live there again permanently-she said it reminded her too much of my grandfather. But she liked to visit on occasion. We would take holidays there often when I was a child. Upon her death, I was given the status of 'visitor' because I was born to a citizen but not one myself. I'm allowed to visit Hastom whenever I please or, with special approval from the Council, I can allow someone that I personally vouch for to visit in my place. That's where I was while you were asleep against the bathtub, getting approval for you. It took some convincing on my part but eventually, they agreed. Don't take it as a slight. The only thing they're more selective about than visitors is who they allow to become citizens.

"They award the privilege of citizenship into Hastom to a very select and worthy few visitors on only two occasions: If a citizen chooses to relinquish it for some reason or, tragically, if a citizen dies and has no other living relatives left born in Hastom to maintain citizenship in their family line. And to become a citizen is serious thing, not to be taken lightly. One must seek the unanimous approval of the Council and must then remain in Hastom for six straight months to be observed by the Council and the other citizens of Hastom. Except in the case of a death in one's immediate family or a medical emergency the village Healer cannot manage."

"Is it really worth all that trouble? Just to live there?"

"For some, yes. The cost is high, no doubt, but for what they get in return, they consider it priceless."

"And what's that?"

"A place to belong when they had none before." Luna smiled and went off into the bathroom, leaving her friend alone on the couch.

Ginny's head swam against the vast current of information she'd been given.

_This is madness! She honestly expects me to just go off to this place-this place that some parents use to scare their children into behaving by threatening to send them there-on a whim and her word? I'll go away for time and come back with no money and no solutions. Why should I even consider this?_

Because she truly had nothing left to lose. Not a job or a home, that's for certain. She was too nervous to turn to her family for fear that she wouldn't be able to lie about the baby's paternity and if she couldn't lie than there was a good chance many peoples' lives would be in shambles because of it. And Luna did have a point: Sitting around and worrying endlessly over how she was going to support herself wasn't healthy for her or the baby. Maybe getting away and coming back with a clear head and a fresh perspective was exactly what she needed.

_But to Hastom?_

A great surge of Gryffindor courage pulsed out from her rapidly beating heart, shooting sparks of adrenaline through her. She felt like a schoolgirl again, right before her playing in her very first real Quidditch match. Anything and everything was possible. She could go to a place where seldom few had been allowed and experience sights and sounds most would fork over their entire Gringotts vault for. She could do it and maybe even end up being better for it.

Even if the mere thought of Hastom and its legends sent chills down her spine.

"If Luna says it's safe there, I believe her," Ginny whispered to herself and her unborn child. "She doesn't know how to lie to the people she loves."

Luna shot out from the bathroom and threw a few more things in Ginny's bag before zipping it shut and holding it out in front of her. "Are you ready?" she asked.

_No but when have you ever let that stop you before?_

"Yes," Ginny said firmly, standing on wobbling knees and taking her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

"When you arrive," Luna explained, "you'll be at the Green Swallow Inn. The innkeeper, Mrs. Nettles, will help you get settled. She can tell you everything you need to know about the village and can help you find anything. The inn isn't connected to the Floo network and only citizens are allowed to have owls in Hastom, but if you need to get in touch with home, Mrs. Nettles can help you. Your room at the inn has been paid for until the end of July but feel free to come back sooner than that if you wish."

"A whole month? Luna, I can't accept-"

"Your friendship, not Galleons, is what I want most. Remember?" Luna glanced over at intricate wall clock that showed the position of the sun and moon in the sky rather than numbers or hands. "The Portkey will activate in about two minutes. Do you need anything else before you leave?"

"Tell my brothers where I…wait, don't tell them where I am. They'll go berserk. Just tell them I lost my mind, decided to go lounge around in Africa, and that I'll be back soon or some nonsense like that. I'll try to get a letter to them if I can. Give them and anyone else you can think of my love. Get in touch with me if anything happens here." The excitement thrummed through her veins and with a tiny shriek, Ginny reached out to give Luna a tight squeeze. Pulling back, she eyed her carefully once more. "You're absolutely sure this is alright? You letting someone go to Hastom in your place? This won't cause any trouble for you?"

"Not at all," Luna reassured her, squeezing her hands. "I've let another old friend go there before and it turned out to be a good thing for his life. He's made it his home."

"Really?" Ginny asked, mentally trying to run through a list of men that Luna was friends with. "Who else have you let go to Hastom?"

"It's almost time," Luna said quickly, hiccoughing loudly. Ginny felt her hands tense slightly.

Letting go of her, Luna reached to the coffee table and grabbed a dirty, hole-ridden sock which she thrust into Ginny's hand before backing away a few steps. "Have a safe journey and a lovely trip. Keep your eyes, ears, mind, and heart open the whole time."

The sock began to glow. Ginny clutched it tighter, a mass of thrill and nerves. "I will."

"And if you should feel the desire to burn an effigy of me sometime after you get there, I completely understand and take no offense to it."

"What? Why would I ever-"

The light from the sock became blinding, blurring Luna out of sight and Ginny felt her body sharply tugged forward by an invisible hook, surrounded by a swirling mix of wind and colors. Her voice was just getting ready to let loose a scream when her feet hit solid wood and she jerked to a sudden stop.

A pair of small, sturdy hands with about a dozen rings between them caught her waist before she toppled to the ground. Trying to blink the dizziness out of her system, she finally looked down and met a pair of vividly purple eyes. Well, only one vividly purple eye-the other was hidden by a black eye patch.

"Welcome to Hastom," the dwarf woman said in a high-pitched voice. "I am Sylvania Nettles but you may call me Mrs. Nettles. I run and own the Green Swallow. You are Ginevra, I take it?"

"Yes. Ginny, actually," she replied breathlessly, one hand clutching her stomach as it protested the journey it had just taken as her other blindly gripped the small mahogany dresser she had landed next to.

Mrs. Nettles let her go and took her bag from her slack fingers without asking. She hoisted the bag onto the single-width bed, fluffing the inviting pillows and smoothing the patchwork quilt. "Breakfast and dinner are served promptly at seven each morning and evening. If you dare sit down at five minutes past the hour, you will have to find another place to take your meal," the woman explained plainly. Ginny couldn't place her strange accent. "Rooms are cleaned between twelve and two o'clock in the afternoon every day. All guests should be back at the inn by eleven at night unless they've made sleeping arrangements elsewhere. If you wish, I will ensure any outgoing post you have is mailed within the hour; incoming post is delivered to your room." She went to the door and motioned Ginny to follow as she went into the narrow hallway and down a flight of stairs to a large, sunny sitting room. "The kitchen is over there," she indicated an open doorway to the right, "the dining room next door. Menus are posted daily. If you have a dietary concern, please inform me. The sitting room is open to all guests until midnight; please show them proper courtesy in regards to using the wireless radio or any other entertainment. Do you have any questions?"

"Yes." Ginny pulled a shaking hand to her nose, wincing against the smell emanating from the kitchen and rubbing her stomach. "Is the town Healer located nearby?" At the innkeeper's raised eyebrow, she blushed slightly. "I…I have a bit of a stomach bug and the Portkey made it a little worse. Just wanted to see if he had something to help it."

Mrs. Nettle's purple eye trailed her up and down. She shook her head with a rueful smile. "Only thing that will help it is about nine more months."

Ginny blanched. "How did you…can everyone just tell by looking at me…do you see the Infansite Fairies too?"

"No, but I've had six pregnancies and four children to show for them," Mrs. Nettles said, her smile smaller but a bit kinder. "I know your look well. This is your first child?" Ginny nodded. Mrs. Nettles pulled out her wand and waved it towards the menu board, the tightly-scripted handwriting morphing instantly. "I make a lovely vegetable soup that calms the most ailing stomachs. There'll be a steaming bowl and a pile of French baguettes waiting for you tonight. In the meantime, the Healer is just three blocks down to your left from here. You'll see the sign. **She's** usually not too busy this time of day."

"Thank you," Ginny managed to say as Mrs. Nettles guided her gently out the heavy oak door onto the sun filled cobblestone streets lined with people and stands.

"You welcome, dear." With that, the doors closed behind her and Ginny was left alone in Hastom.

Old fears born of years of horrifying tales of the village crawled up unheeded through her belly at the realization.

_Okay,_ she thought, letting her long hair drape to cover her face and forcing her feet to move forward, _it's going to be fine, Ginny. Luna said you would be safe and fine here. She would never lie to you. Of course, Luna's definition of safe and fine might be a bit different than others. She was raised by a man who left an Erumpent Horn just sitting in his house. And who knows what kind of things they saw and did looking for Crumple Horned Snorkacks…Sweet Merlin, why did I let her send me here? I wasn't thinking rationally! I have to see if I can-_

Something shiny and colorful was shoved into Ginny's face.

"Ahh!" she screamed, jumping back slightly. She almost knocked into a cast-iron light pole before she stopped, holding a hand over her racing heart. "Gandalf's goiter, you scared me." She looked around wildly for the source of her fright until her eyes saw a feeble yet oddly regal old man with silver hair wearing the deepest burgundy robes hutched on top of a footstool, holding a shaking flower up towards her. A large wooden basket next to him was filled to the brim with more flowers. She instantly felt guilty. "I'm sorry, sir. You just startled me, that's all."

The old man kept his knotted hand raised up to Ginny, showing her the flower again. He didn't speak but grunted softly with a smile.

"It's a lovely flower," Ginny told him, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The man didn't lower the flower until Ginny nodded in understanding. "Yes, it's very beautiful but I'm afraid I don't have any money to pay you for it."

The man's eyes brightened and his smile lit up his weathered face, proudly displaying his two remaining teeth. He took Ginny's hand in his and placed the flower in it, closing her fingers around the tall stem. She studied it closer and almost gasped in shock: It was an Arcus Violet, just like the one in her picture frame back in Luna's spare room. Only this one was real, alive, and even more beautiful than Ginny had ever imagined, the petals a sinfully delicious red. She inhaled and smelled something so pure and fragrant, she could not name it because there was no name for something that perfect.

She blinked down at the man who seemed older than time. "I…I can't accept this, sir," she told him in awe. "It's far too much." She tried to politely hand him back the flower but her gripped her wrist firmly and shook his head. Finally, she held the flower to her breast and smiled to her ears. She leaned down and hugged him, whispering in his ear, "You're very kind."

He pushed her gently back after a moment, patting her cheek and nodding with his head down the path she had been before he stopped her. Ginny nodded and kissed the flower petals to show her gratitude once more before she went on her way.

Her steps were lighter and her mind was much more at ease than it had been when she exited the Green Swallow. With great care so as not to damage it, she placed the Arcus Violet in her bag for safekeeping. Pulling her hair back behind her ears, she walked slowly through the streets, taking in the sights around her.

From her limited viewpoint, Hastom didn't appear any different from some place like Hogsmeade or even Diagon Alley. Businesses and shops lined the area of the village packed against each other but never crowding and in an array of colors and shapes. Vendors sat or stood by their carts, eager to show off exotic pelts or tonics or handmade delicacies to the villagers milling about on the bright Saturday. There was an apothecary with ropes of herbs hanging outside it; a market with fruits and vegetables that Ginny had never even seen in the window; a toy shop where a pair of marionette puppets hung in midair on invisible string, delighting a group of small children; and-to her great delight-a Quidditch supply shop, though not nearly as big as the one in Diagon Alley.

_It's…charming. Perfectly charming and not in any way scary. Not yet, at least_; she thought as her eyes tried to take in everything. So enamored was she with all she laid eyes on that she nearly missed the wooden sign with a red cross hanging over a honey-colored door. The sign door read:

**Hastom Health Services**

Underneath that, it said:

**Healer Nell Nixon**

Her eyes nearly shot out of their sockets. "There's no way," Ginny murmured to herself, pulling the door open as a bell jangled overhead. "There's no way it's the same Healer you saw before. Luck doesn't turn around this fast." She entered the tiny waiting area and stood in the center of it, looking for some sign of a photograph of the Healer she was about to meet.

"Mrs. Killgraw, I'm sorry but I'm closing the office for the day in a few minutes" a laughing voice called from behind a curtained doorway as it was pulled apart, "Now how many times must I tell you? The hippogriff marrow needs a few hours to take an effect before your eyebrows shrink down to their normal size. You really need to keep your boy out of the herb-," The light brown haired woman who emerged gasped quietly in recognition. "Ginny? Is that you?"

"Healer Nixon," Ginny sighed, her shoulders slumping in relief.

Hastom was really growing on her.

"It's Nell, remember?" She came closer and took Ginny's hands, studying her closely with a trained eye. "You look…rather pale and very tired to be honest. What on Earth are you doing here?"

"A friend, a good friend, sent me here. She thought I needed to get away for a little bit of a holiday; thought it might give the baby and me a little more health. Brilliant woman, she is."

"If you say so." Nell tugged her through the curtain to a small, clean exam room. She gave the table a pat. "Hop up and let's see how you're both doing. How long are you going to be in Hastom?"

"Until the end of month, I think. Hastom is where you work most of the time?"

"This where I live all of the time," Nell replied, picking up a chart and quill to make notes with.

"You're a citizen?"

"Yes, born and raised here. My father was the village Healer before me and I learned most of what I know from him. His mother was a Healer and her grandmother before that and so on. Healing is the family business so to speak. I did some studying at St. Mungo's and then abroad in America before I came home and set up shop. It's a small practice, though, and not everyone here is rolling in Galleons, that's why I work at Healer Smythe's office a few days a month so I can afford to provide free care to some patients."

"That's decent of you." Ginny smiled from her position on the table. "I knew that about you the first time we met, that you were decent. I'll never be able to thank you enough for helping me to see I didn't have to…" She rubbed her stomach affectionately. "I might even end up naming her after you."

Nell rolled her eyes and chuckled, setting the chart on a table beside her and reaching for her wand. "It's appreciated, but not necessary. I'd hate to saddle another poor girl with this old-fashioned name." She furrowed her brow. "Did your Healer in London tell you it was a girl? It's not possible to detect gender until the second trimester."

"No, he didn't. I just…this is my daughter. I'm sure of it."

The Healer nodded politely and began waving her wand over Ginny's form, examining and making careful note of the different muted colors that popped up over points on her body, murmuring quietly aloud. "Your blood pressure is little bit high but nothing to be alarmed at yet…weight is good….any insomnia or headaches? No? Good…the nausea seems a bit intense…what on Earth were you prescribed for this? Two-thirds dogwood brewed with three-fourths lavender?" Nell bristled in irritation. "Healer Wellby. That man thinks no new potions have been discovered since the Middle Ages. I'll set you up with something much better." She put down her wand and wrote furiously on the chart. "I don't want to upset you but can I ask about the…biological father?"

Ginny shut her eyes, remembering Nell was one of a few people who knew for sure Lionel's identity. She was told before Ginny signed the contract terminating Lionel's rights so Ginny could discuss Lionel with her with no consequences but Nell couldn't reveal Lionel's identity to anyone else.

"He's…I have to explain something to you." Before she knew it, the whole sordid tale was spilling out of Ginny's lips. Everything-from Ginny's declaration to Lionel that she was keeping the baby; to the fling she caught him pressed up against in New York; to his ultimatum regarding keeping identity as the baby's father a secret; to losing her home, her job, and most of her money-burst out in a retelling that made Ginny want to weep with shame all over again. Nell sat there with her the whole time, holding her hand when tears spilled forth and indignantly calling Lionel a ten-syllable curse word Ginny had never heard of. By the end of it all, something happened in addition to the burden Ginny felt at keeping such secrets from people she loved lifting ever so slightly.

At the end of it all, a friendship had formed.

"Listen," Nell began, toying with the end of her long side braid, "I'm not saying what you did was the wrong thing exactly but I have to ask: Would letting those memories become public in exchange for Lionel providing some kind of financial support be so awful? I mean, I know your brothers might be angry at what it does to their lives but you're their sister. I'm sure they'd be willing to go through that for you."

"Maybe," Ginny sighed deeply. "But I could never ask that of them. They're all in such good places right now; I couldn't bear it if anything damaged that. Especially something like me being naïve enough to trust Lionel Dresden. And it's not just my brothers that would be harmed." She swallowed as her mind turned to Harry, averting her eyes from Nell's blue ones. She hadn't had the strength to discuss Harry or what had happened between them in New York with her new friend. "Lionel has other memories, memories about a man I used to be…involved with. He and I…we don't see each other any more but I still…he still means a great deal to me and I won't have him slandered in public. I'll find a way through this but it won't be at his expense."

Nell nodded thoughtfully. "The first time we met, I was right too. I knew what a caring, devoted mother you'd make." She smiled down at Ginny, reaching for her wand again. "How about we end this appointment on a happy note? Lift up your shirt a bit." She stood over Ginny and waved her wand in a delicate figure-eight pattern over her stomach.

A strong, pulsing beat slowly filled the small room in a sound Ginny knew she'd never be able to forget.

The world shifted ever so slightly. Nothing Ginny had ever contemplated about motherhood prepared her for this moment as she felt her heart expand exponentially with love. "Is that…her heartbeat?" she breathed, her own heartbeat thrumming in response.

"Yes. Very, very strong and healthy." Nell's grin widened. "It's incredible, isn't it?"

Ginny sniffed back tears and laughed heartily at the same time. The wondrous pulsing evidence that her child grew within her was the perfect remedy for any suffering thoughts of Lionel Dresden put her through and any melancholy that thoughts of Harry Potter brought to the surface.

She had once foolishly thought she couldn't find completion of herself in motherhood. Growing up, watching her own mother tend to the needs of everyone around her, Ginny never thought she could be happy changing nappies and running after little bodies. The thought of children wasn't something that had ever stirred anything maternal in her, nothing like the love she felt now. Being with Harry as they spoke of a future together, a family of their very own, hadn't unearthed a buried desire to feel little limbs kick inside her or an urge to cuddle a tiny warm body close to her breast like hearing her baby's heartbeat did. Even with watching that potion turn blue a few weeks ago or experiencing the joys of morning sickness, it hadn't set in until now how much she had loved and wanted this baby.

There was no crime she wouldn't commit to protect this child, no spell she wouldn't cast. With a start, she understood like never before the ease with which Lily Potter gave her life to save her child. Voldermort had never given Lily a choice; there was no choice between a mother's life and her child's.

_I love you_, she silently told thumps.

Slowly, with care, Nell lifted her wand from Ginny's stomach and the miraculous sound faded away. Ginny wanted to demand Nell start it again, she wanted that little heartbeat to be the soundtrack of every day she had.

"I'll bring the recording equipment in next time," Nell promised, pocketing her wand. "It's a little like a pensieve memory except you don't see it, you hear it. We can save it so you can have a copy with you whenever you want to hear it."

"I'd like that," Ginny nodded, wiping her eyes and sitting up.

Nell helped her down from the table. "You look like you could use a great big lunch. I know the best place in town."

"Oh thank you but I'm flat broke." A thought occurred to her. "Actually, I'm sorry; I should have asked what you charged before I-"

Nell put a finger to her lip, shushing her. "No talk of money, not for this appointment and not for lunch. We'll figure out a medical payment plan that works for you later and as for lunch, the person who owns the best place in town is my husband so we weren't going to be paying anyway." She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a few vials. She handed them to Ginny. "These potions help with the nausea, take one before you go to bed at night and it should make you feel better. You still taking the prenatal potion I prescribed on our first visit?" Ginny nodded and placed the vials in her handbag. "Excellent. With that, we go forth to the Millennium Falcon."

Ginny followed Nell out as they left her office, Nell casting a Locking spell on the door as they headed down the street. "The what?"

"It's the pub my husband owns here. See, he's American. I met him when I studied there and liked him so much, I just brought him home with me. But he was also raised among Muggles. Didn't even know he was magical until he was almost ten years old. So he has a great love of Muggle pop culture because he grew up with it. Apparently, there's this movie called _War of Stars_ or some rubbish that is very popular and there's something in it that's called a millennium falcon. He loved the name so much that when he came here and wanted to open a pub, he thought it would be a great name. Thought it sounded very British pub-like or so he says. I want to throttle the man sometimes, but I do love him. You'll love him, too. He's a great bloke. Gets on well with everyone he meets. If I know Bart, he's at the counter of the pub right now trading Muggle upbringing stories with his best mate."

"Is Bart a citizen, like you?"

"Of course. He had to get his approval and all from the Council before we could settle here permanently together but he was willing to do it for me, this being my home and all. Do you know how citizenship in Hastom works?"

"Yes, Luna explained most of it to me before she handed me a Portkey here."

"Luna?" Nell squinted her eyes at Ginny as they continued walking. "Luna Lovegood? She's the friend that let you visit in her place?"

"Uh-huh. Oh, there it is," Ginny said, pointing to the large wooden sign with a hand craved falcon. She didn't notice the look of horrified comprehension that swept over Nell's face or that Nell had paused quite a few steps behind her.

Her hungry stomach guiding her, Ginny pulled open the pub door. She had already set one foot in when she heard Nell shout behind her, "Ginny! Wait! Don't go in yet!"

However Ginny's head was turned towards the bar of the pub and as soon as she saw Harry's green eyes glance towards the open door, she turned and slammed the door shut with a bang that reverberated down the noisy street.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I want to thank everyone again for all their incredible responses so far. A special shout out to my amazing beta for all the work and support that went into this chapter. This chapter is a little shorter in length than previous ones only because the original draft had this combined with the next chapter. You'll be happy to know that chapter seven will be coming within the next few days as I smooth out the rough edges of it. Until then, please enjoy!**

Ginny wasn't sure how, but she had ended up squeezed onto the snug sofa at Nell's home about twenty minutes later. Since it was a few blocks away from the pub (and Ginny had never laid eyes on the sun-kissed brick cottage before) she assumed that Nell had managed to guide her shell-shocked form to the home and plopped her in the cozy living room while her new friend went to the kitchen, leaving Ginny alone with her thoughts.

_It was too perfect_, she mused, leaning her head back against the tan upholstery. _I should have known. I was so distracted by the beauty and the kind people of this silly little town that I didn't let myself see the danger. Oh I should have known, the second the word 'Hastom' came out of Luna's lips…Luna. That little sneak! I should have realized who she was talking about when she mentioned sending another 'friend' here. She meant Harry._

At least seeing him here in Hastom answered the question of where he had been living all these years. She knew through the Weasley family grapevine that he had placed the title of his former home, Grimmauld Place, in Teddy Lupin's name not long after Ginny had ended their relationship. The boy would own it outright when he came of age. But Harry hadn't moved to Hogsmeade or any other well-known wizarding village; he didn't live in London, Edinburgh, or another major city in Great Britain and since he was an Auror in the service of Ministry of Magic, he was not permitted to live abroad. Hermione had once mentioned in passing that the only string Harry had ever allowed the Ministry to pull for him as The Boy Who Lived was to ensure that his new residence was completely Unplotable to both the press and population.

Hastom certainly met those standards.

The cushions shifted. Ginny glanced to her side and found Nell sitting beside her, a steaming mug in each hand. Her blue eyes glimmered with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Chamomile," Nell said, handing Ginny a mug with a faded sunflower on it. "Calms the nerves. I also put a hint of ginger in it for your nausea. No caffeine so it's safe for the baby."

"Thank you."

The two women sipped their beverages in silence for a few moments until Nell set her mug on the coffee table and faced the younger woman.

"When Harry first came here, about three years ago," she began, tucking her legs underneath her, "he was not in a good place. He didn't speak to anyone in the beginning, just wandered about the village all by himself. It was days before anyone knew that it was Luna Lovegood that had let him visit in her place and even longer after that before we realized who he actually was. Harry Potter, in our quaint little village, sulking through the streets with a scowl and a scruffy beard on his face. No one could muster the courage to speak to him, but everyone knew why he was here. It was plain as pudding in his eyes."

Ginny did not want to ask, but she couldn't seem to resist hurting herself. "Why did you all assume he was here?"

"A broken heart."

Ginny nodded but did not speak. She gripped the mug until her knuckles were white as Nell continued.

"Eventually he started coming around Bart's pub for meals. Mrs. Nettles doesn't stand for tardiness at mealtime and I guess he grew tired of trying to cobble together something on his own. Remember how I said my husband gets on well with everyone? Well it didn't take him long to get Harry talking. I guess the poor boy was just lonely at that point and wanted someone to connect with. They started talking about missions they had each been on – Bart was an Infiltrator in America, which is kind of like an Auror over here – and he and Harry hit it off. Slowly but surely, Bart got the real story of why Harry was in Hastom."

"And that story was?"

"That a girl Harry had been head over heels in love with had suddenly decided to make him choose between her and a career he felt was his calling in life. Something this girl knew very well," Nell said gently, holding Ginny's watery gaze. "He said that he had no idea how to respond to such a demand and that when he had asked her-begged her- for the chance to discuss whatever the problem really was, the girl had turned him away and told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to be with him anymore. She refused to see him, sent his numerous letters back unopened, and would never even speak about him with her friends and family, no matter how much they begged her to. Finally, after weeks of this, he came to the conclusion that he had probably never meant to her what she meant to him. It damn near killed him. So much so that on the advice of a good friend of his, he packed his bags and came to the mysterious and mystifying village of Hastom. Because as scary as our village may seem to outsiders, we did have one thing going for us that Harry found too good to be true: We didn't have any trace of you here whatsoever."

"Why? Why didn't you tell me this straight away?" Ginny asked with unbelieving eyes. She couldn't believe that Nell could have been so kind to her from the very beginning after all Harry had told the healer about her. "Why did you try to help me if you think I'm such a horrible person?"

"Because for one thing, I didn't know who you really were until you mentioned that Luna was a friend of yours. He's her friend her, too, as you well know. She arranged for him to come here and when you said that you knew her, it finally clicked in my brain that you were Harry's Ginny. He's only mentioned your name to me maybe a handful of times and that was back when he first came here, three years ago. After the story came out of him, it was like he couldn't bear to tell it again."

"But what about my brother, Ron? Or Hermione? Or even Luna? They never told you anything about me, like my name or what I do? Anything that would have given you a clue as to who you were talking to when you opened my file in Healer Smythe's office?"

Nell shrugged sadly, propping her head up on her hand.

"I've never met or spoken to Ron or Hermione and I'm not even sure if they'd know me from a jar of snake fangs. And while she's a sweet soul, Luna doesn't come to Hastom often anymore and when she is here," Nell crinkled her nose and shook her head, "I personally find it a bit trying to keep up in a conversation with her. Harry…I suppose the best way to put it is that he likes to keep his lives separate. There's his world out there and there's his world here in Hastom. Sometimes they overlap, like when Teddy or Meredith comes to visit," Ginny looked away at the mention of Meredith, "but for the most part, he likes to straddle the line of where he thinks he really belongs. Keep little bits of his heart with so many different people and places that none ever has the power to break him if he were to lose one of them.

"As for me thinking that you're a horrible a person, you assume a lot." Nell reached a hand out and patted Ginny's shoulder in reassurance. "Getting to spend some time with you, I think that you are stronger than you give yourself credit for and from what I've seen with how you feel for that baby, you're capable of loving someone with every ounce of your heart. It's…difficult to reconcile who you are now with what I know of you from three years ago. I don't think you can ever understand how much what you did hurt Harry. But I'm willing to take a risk and believe you've changed for the better."

"Nell," Ginny began, putting her mug down and facing the other woman head on, "what I did to him was the lowest of low. Everything he told you about what I did, it was true. I knew then and now what being an Auror means to him; he told me once that he had to ensure that no wizard or witch would ever get the chance to do to someone else what Voldermort had done to him and his family. I tried to put myself above that. What kind of person does that?"

"I don't know," Nell replied with a sigh, confusion marring her lovely features. "But I don't think that that person is you anymore. I know Harry's side of the story and maybe someday, you'll trust me enough to let me in on your version of it. No matter what happened in the past between you and Harry, you have to find a way to forgive yourself and let go of the pain you feel when you remember..." A ghost of a frown crossed her face and her eyes became almost feral as something came to her. "Lionel has memories of Harry, doesn't he? That's who you were talking about before at my office. You're protecting Harry as much as you are your brothers, aren't you?"

Ginny nodded mutely.

"That bastard!" Nell growled, her nostrils flaring. She darted up from the couch, her hands shooting out like bullets to pick up the discarded mugs, keeping up her stream as she went into the small, bright kitchen, immediately going to the rapidly-filling sink. Ginny followed her cautiously to the doorway. "Who does he think he is trying to sully Harry's good name like that? After everything that boy did for our world! And when he was nothing more than a child! Who does Lionel Dresden think he is? I'll tell you what he is: a no good, deceitful, scum-dwelling pile of worthlessness, that's what! And I thought that before I knew what he almost convinced you to do or heard anything you told me today." Nell huffed as she began ferociously scrubbing the small pile of dishes near the sink with a ratty dishtowel. "I've worked my whole life to use magic to help people heal and better their lives on their own; that Dresden filth uses the prestige from his mother's family name to convince otherwise sane, competent people that their lives are missing something and that only his potions-priced exorbitantly high, by the way-can give them happiness. People like him just make me so angry!" she growled and shook her wet hands towards the sink in frustration, staring daggers at the peach-striped wallpaper before turning back to face Ginny's wide eyes. She took a steadying breath and smiled softly. "Sorry about the ranting. You must think I'm a nutter."

"No, not at all. It's nice to see how much you care about Harry. I'm glad he has such a good friend in his life," Ginny said, leaning her head against the doorjamb.

Nell studied her carefully for a moment before she pulled her wand out and waved it. The refrigerator doors opened; cold cuts, small vegetables, and fruit floated out of it while a knife started slicing thick pieces of fresh bread on the counter. She nodded at the round kitchen table and the two women sat down as lunch assembled itself on worn china plates in front of them. Ginny's stomach rumbled in a pleasant way, seemingly for the first time in weeks.

_If nothing else, she's a fantastic healer,_ Ginny thought, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

"May I ask you a personal question?" Nell asked, nimbly catching a pitcher of lemonade that hovered near her ear before pouring them each a tall glass.

Ginny could only roll her eyes at her turkey sandwich. After a day like today, what was one more bit of revelation? "Of course."

"How did you ever end up involved with someone like Lionel Dresden in the first place?"

Ginny chewed thoughtfully on her sandwich for a moment as she pondered the question. For it to make any sort of sense, she'd have to start at the beginning.

Not an easy thing to do.

"When Harry and I…well when I…you see when I ended things…" Picking at a bit of crust, she struggled to find a way to explain herself. "I didn't want to hurt Harry. That was never my intention. I just thought maybe he'd…" She rubbed her eyes, suddenly exhausted.

Glancing through the gaps of her fingers, she saw Nell sitting patiently, nibbling on a carrot stick as quietly as possible. Rampant curiosity shone in her eyes, balanced out with empathy and even tinges of anticipation, as if she were about to unravel some sort of great mystery. All of these emotions played across the sky blue of Nell's eyes (as well as a thousand more feelings and thoughts Ginny was not privy to) but there was one element Ginny couldn't find in her new friend's expression:

Judgment.

The world they lived in did not make it easy for people like Nell Nixon to exist; people who could find a way to keep their minds and hearts open to all that they found around them. They were rare.

It was rarer still to be able to find a way to friendship with one.

Meeting this woman – in that Healer's office in London and today – had been a gift to Ginny on both occasions. The first gift was her unborn child's life; the second was the deep friendship materializing before their eyes. But perhaps there was also a third gift to be found, something that she had long dismissed as impossible:

A chance to have Harry back in her life.

Did she really want that though? To see the man she had loved since girlhood move through the milestones of his life without being as a part of it as she wanted to be? To see him in love with another woman? To see him marry, whether it be to Meredith Oxley or someone else? To see him hold a giggling black-haired moppet high on his shoulders with eyes that didn't belong to her?

Was all that upcoming pain really worth just being able to see Harry smile at her once again?

_Yes_ she thought without hesitation. But before she could start, she needed to ensure one thing.

"Whatever I tell you will stay between us, right? For all intents and purposes, this conversation is taking place between a healer and her patient? No other third party will get this information even if it may pertain to them?" Ginny lowered her hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Nell didn't answer at first. She drummed her fingers against the table before she finally let out a mighty huff. "Fine," she agreed reluctantly.

"After the war was over, everything was different," Ginny said slowly. Her voice was stronger, steady and sure. "**I** was different. Every part of me felt like I should be grateful that the war was over and that we had made it through it alive. Most of us anyways. And Harry was finally safe and free to live his life without a specter of death hanging over him. It should have been wonderful. But every morning that first summer, it felt like I had to force myself to just get out of bed and get dressed.

"I walked around every day thinking such horrible thoughts. Dark and scary thoughts. I thought that there were people who lost much more than I did and that I should be ashamed of feeling so sad and lost with all the love I had around me. My thoughts, they were such poison. Getting through each day was a battle. Some days were a little easier than others, but most were just endless hours trying not to think or feel. I would do chores or study or practice Quidditch or help at George's shop; anything to stay busy because if I stopped and let myself truly feel everything inside of me…"

"You'd drown," Nell added with an air of sympathetic authority. "Your thoughts overwhelmed you and you didn't know how to process them. It's not uncommon, Ginny, to feel that way after a severe trauma. I'm sure there are many others who had dark and scary thoughts of their own after Voldermort was defeated. In that regard, you are not unique."

"Yes. I know that now."

"Did you talk about this with anyone in your family or with Harry?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I didn't want to burden anyone else with this. We lost my brother in the Final Battle. It was terrible on my parents and his twin, George. I didn't want to cause them any more worry. And everyone else was trying to move on in their own ways: rebuilding the Ministry or Hogwarts; starting to work again; bringing home others who had been lost or hidden for their own safety. I didn't want everyone to know that I needed help. I wanted to be strong for my family but especially for Harry. After all he been through, I wanted him to believe that he had someone who would take care of him, not someone he needed to take care of."

"And how did that work out for you?" Nell asked deliberately.

Ginny snorted behind her glass of lemonade.

"Not well at all," she said. "I got back to school, without Harry or any of my brothers. Just a few friends brave enough to come back to a castle where we had all watched people we loved slaughtered. I couldn't focus on anything; I could hardly eat, sleep, or walk a straight line. And every day, those horrible thoughts pounded in my head and made me feel so guilty for surviving the war. I think I might have even wanted to die. I probably would have if it hadn't been for Harry.

"I finally had a bit of a breakdown at school. It involved a broken mirror and few bottles of Blood Replenishing Potion. Needless to say, I was a mess. Most blokes might have headed for the hills at that point but not Harry. He stayed with me in the hospital wing, even though he was in the middle of Auror training and when he finally had to leave, he wrote or Flooed every day until we got to see each other again over the holidays. He told me how much he loved me and that he'd do whatever he needed to so I could get well. And amazingly, it worked. Going to group therapy sessions Madame Pomfry held at Hogwarts helped and so did talking with my family and my friends. I started to feel like my old self again, especially when I was with Harry." Ginny smiled slightly as her mind thought back on that time…

_**Diagon Alley was teeming with people. The first Christmas after the war had just ended, but every witch and wizard in England seemed determined to embrace the holiday spirit as never before. Enormous red and green bows were still tied to every lamppost with miles of bauble-lined garland tied between them. Christmas cheer spilled out of the shops themselves and onto the snow covered streets where passerbys struggled to secure their purchases while dodging snowballs that the children (and some adults) were throwing merrily at one another. **_

_**It was magical. In more ways than one.**_

_**But the greatest magic was the feeling of Harry's arm draped protectively around Ginny's shoulder as they made their way through the crowded streets.**_

"_**How are you feeling, love?" Harry whispered into her ear.**_

_**She smiled softly at him before she answered.**_

"_**Good," she finally said. "It feels nice to be out and about again."**_

"_**Are you sure? Because we don't have to stay out if you feel-"**_

"_**Harry, please don't." She picked up his gloved hand and pressed it to her lips. "I know you're worried but you don't have to be. I promise I'm feeling much better. It's good for me to be around all this happiness and joy."**_

_**She wasn't lying to him. On the whole, she felt almost like the old Ginny, the one who laughed easily and felt bliss without feeling guilty. There were still bad days where the weight of despair could settle its crushing mass on her heart, but unlike before, she talked about her feelings with her parents or Hermione or Neville but most often with Harry.**_

_**Her life was infinitely brighter in his presence. **_

_**He squeezed her tighter, inhaling the scent of her hair.**_

"_**When it comes to you, I'll always worry," he whispered as he kissed the side of her head. "Nothing will change that because I'll always love you."**_

_**Her heart quickened at his words, like it always did whenever he said them.**_

"_**I love you too." They stopped walking so she could pull him down and give him a proper kiss, right in the middle of the street. No one else existed but them and the swell of happiness between them, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips pressed together. When they finally pulled apart, her eyes sparkled mischievously. "But do you know what I love almost as much as I love you?"**_

"_**What's that?"**_

"_**Seventy-five percent off post-Christmas sales at Quality Quidditch Supplies." Grinning madly, she tugged his willing body up the street as he laughed behind her. "Come on! All that Chudley paraphernalia Ron loves is so cheap to begin with they'll probably pay us to take it out of the store right now!"**_

_**They moved along, zigzagging through the throngs of people with ease until they entered the shop. In the safety of the small building, Harry removed his knit cap and scarf, making him more recognizable to the public at large.**_

_**Ginny made a beeline for the garish bright orange section of the shop.**_

"_**Ugh," she moaned, sticking her tongue out at the assorted pieces. A thought suddenly hit her. "What if the Cannons are the only team in the league that wants to recruit me?" she asked Harry, concerned. "It's not just their ability to lose every season that scares me: Can you imagine me wearing these colors in every match? I'll throw up midair if I have to look at these jerseys at every practice."**_

"_**You look beautiful no matter what you wear and besides, it's a moot point." He pulled an orange fuzzy hat down on her head and grinned. "We both know that come next season, you'll be sporting Holyhead green. Which you will look stunning in, by the way."**_

"_**You really think so?" Ginny asked uncertainly. She bit her lower lip as doubts and thoughts she had worked hard to eliminate the past two months crept back in. "You don't think my parents have a point, that I should at least have a backup plan if I don't get asked to play?"**_

"_**No," Harry said without hesitation. "You're the best Chaser I've ever seen and teams are going to be lining up to sign you. But I know your heart. You're a Holyhead girl through and through. You'd play for them even if they only offered you five Knuts a match." **_

_**She giggled, whatever qualms she had disappearing at his words and the sincerity in his eyes.**_

"_**I'm not that cheap," she said, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. "I'd hold out for at least ten."**_

_**Glancing around quickly, he raised his eyebrows at her. The unease had just started to form in her mind when Harry plucked the hat off her head before he reached out and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off her feet. **_

"_**Harry Potter! Put me down this instant!" She squealed loudly, laughing and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.**_

_**Ignoring the other patrons occupied in their own shopping, he carried her over to the wall of green and gold. Setting her down, he began grabbing hats, banners, socks, history books, and everything else he could get his hands on.**_

"_**What on Earth are you doing?"**_

"_**Buying up Harpies merchandise for you to sign so you can sell it later for a huge profit when you become their star player," he explained, wrapping a scarf around her neck with one hand. "That way, even if they are only paying you five Knuts a match-"**_

"_**Ten."**_

"_**-you can still afford to buy yourself the new Firebolt model when it comes out next spring."**_

_**Ginny shook her head at him, tugging the scarf off. How did she ever get so lucky?**_

"_**Ah," a sugary sweet voice said from behind her. "What a lovely couple the two of you make." **_

_**The expression on Harry's face went from merry to almost murderous in an instant. Ginny felt her blood chill as she turned and saw the plastic grin on Rita Skeeter's face, eyeing them like a rabid dog would a juicy fillet.**_

_**Before she even realized what had happened, the Quick-Quotes Quill leapt out of Rita's gaudy turquoise handbag and settled besides Ginny's head, a roll of parchment not far behind.**_

"_**Now, Harry darling," the reporter began, adjusting her ostentatious glasses, "my readers are dying to know the answer to one question: How is the great and powerful Harry Potter, the Vanquisher of Voldermort himself–just a new nickname for you I'm auditioning-enjoying the first holiday of his young life not locked up in a cupboard or avoiding certain death?" She arched her spidery eyebrow high in the air.**_

_**Ginny bristled with anger. She would have liked nothing more than to launch a Body Bind Hex at the pest of woman but before she could reach for her wand, Harry put down his haul and gently took her arm in his.**_

"_**Come on, Gin. She isn't worth the trouble," he whispered in her ear as he started to lead her out of the store.**_

_**They barely made it three steps before Rita's voice rang out again, this time for the whole store to hear.**_

"'_**She isn't worth the trouble.' That is a very interesting choice of words, Harry. Because that is a direct quote some of my readers sent in in regards to that little article we ran in the fall about your beloved here. The one about Ms. Weasley's desperate cries for attention."**_

_**Ginny stopped cold at Rita's words. They had reached the door; she felt Harry's hand tense and tremble in hers but she couldn't focus on that now. All she understood was what Rita had just told her.**_

"_**W-what are you talking about?" Ginny mumbled as the shop fell silent around her. "What article?"**_

"_**The one we ran after that little run-in you had with a bathroom mirror at school. I must say, it looks like your face healed quite nicely from all the scarring. No one could ever guess-"**_

_**A shot of red zoomed past Rita, a breath away from her face, disintegrating the quill and parchment near her. She gasped in surprise and stumbled back a step, her face frozen in shock. A few customers near her ducked in fright or backed away from her.**_

_**Ginny whipped around to see Harry with his wand out, his hand gripping the holly wood so tightly she was amazed it didn't snap in half.**_

"_**Do not," Harry commanded a flabbergasted Rita, "ever come near her again. And if you even dare to put so much as her initials in your column, you'll be begging for the mercy of the Dementors when I'm through with you." Every inch of him left no doubt he was telling the truth.**_

_**A flash of reason broke the logjam in Ginny's mind. Trembling, she started to shove Harry out of the shop and onto the street. He was having none of it. She lowered his outstretched arm to his side but his dark green eyes stayed rooted to the reporter.**_

"_**Harry please," she begged quietly. "Let's get out of here." People began to whisper among themselves and she knew a host of trouble was not far behind. "We need to leave, Harry. Please just take me out of here."**_

_**Harry blinked slowly at her words and looked down at her terrified face, the rage on his own tempering slightly. He put his arm around her shoulder and they turned to exit the shop together, confused and startled murmurs echoing in her ears.**_

_**They walked quickly to the entrance that would take them to the Leaky so they could head back to Grimmauld Place. Ginny felt her head ache as her mind ran over what had just happened in the shop, both what she had learned from Rita and Harry's reaction to it. It was almost suffocating. One thought scared her more than any other.**_

"_**Are you going to get in trouble for what you did?"**_

_**Harry stopped them suddenly as a group of laughing witches and wizards intersected their path. He squeezed her so close to him it was almost painful.**_

"_**It'll be fine," he said unconvincingly. "Don't worry about it, love."**_

"But I did worry," Ginny continued, back in the present. "I worried so much that being with me was hurting him more than it was helping him. I watched him be crucified in the press for trying to protect me; I watched him come close to losing his job too many times to count; I even watched him almost lose his life." Her voice cracked at the end and she swallowed back tears.

Nell closed her eyes and sighed sadly.

"So you left him. Because you thought his life would be better if he wasn't with you," the blonde woman concluded. "You knew he wouldn't be able to do it himself, even if he wanted to, so you made the decision for him." She kneaded her fingertips into her forehead, deeply troubled by what she had just heard.

Ginny gave her a watery smiled and asked, "Still think I'm not a horrible person?"

Nell didn't say anything but simply reached over and rubbed Ginny's shoulder.

"You're quite reckless and extremely hardheaded, but no. Not horrible." She offered a small half smile as she got up and collected the dishes, heading back to the sink. Ginny damn near shivered in relief at still being able to call Nell a friend. "But why you broke up with Harry still doesn't explain how you ended with someone like Lionel."

Ginny rested her head against the table, her long red hair fanning out around her, drained and empty.

"It seemed like right after we broke up," she said dully, "that Harry was with Meredith. I know that in reality it was months later, but I just wasn't prepared to see pictures of them in _Witch Weekly_ or hear acquaintances of ours talk so openly about the pair of them. Even though in theory it was what I wanted for him-to be happy-the truth of it was almost unbearable. It was like a never-ending Cruciatus Curse.

"I know now that I was depressed again and I fell back into my old habits, only this time they consisted of Quidditch practices, matches, and endless parties with a healthy amount of Firewhiskey flowing. It was just like before: As long as I kept moving about, I never had to think about how much it hurt that I had forced away the man I loved. One day, about a year later, I woke up and I didn't know who was looking back at me from the mirror.

"It was someone shallow and without any care for other people; someone who still loved her family and friends but avoided them whenever she could so the man who needed them more could keep them without feeling awkward about it; someone who stayed up in the air on her broom because life made more sense up there than it did down on the ground; someone who would, for a time, bounce from bed to bed, from man to man, so long as they didn't have black hair and green eyes. It was nothing like the girl I had been, like the girl Harry Potter had loved. No one would ever ask her what had happened between them or if they'd ever get back together. She could completely let him go and then maybe her heart wouldn't break every time she heard his name or saw his picture. So I wholeheartedly embraced becoming that new girl; a petty, self-centered girl that was tailor-made for someone like Lionel Dresden."

She shut her eyes when she felt Nell move to stand behind. Gently, she began to soothingly run her fingers through Ginny's hair.

"But thankfully," Nell whispered, "the real Ginny found her way back to herself. And not a moment too soon."

Ginny nodded in agreement.

"The second that potion turned blue, I had something worth fighting for again. Something strong enough to break Lionel's hold over me and something strong enough to fight against whatever doubts or demons I still had lurking beneath the surface. This baby needs a mother, not a doormat, and that's exactly what she's going to get."

The front door burst open, shattering the tranquil calm. Nell jumped slightly and Ginny shot up straight in her chair.

"Honey, you will never believe what happened today!" The voice boomed from the living room into the kitchen, growing louder as the speaker drew closer. "That girl that Harry told us about, the one from before he came here? You will not believe it and I cannot believe I'm actually saying it, that same girl is…"

A gangly black-haired man with dark brown eyes entered the kitchen and stopped short when he saw the pair of women. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped.

"Sitting at our kitchen table right now," Nell finished for him quickly when his mouth refused to close. She put her hands on Ginny's shoulders, squeezing them in support. "And her name is Ginny Weasley. Ginny, I would like you to meet my husband, Bart Nixon."

"Um, Hi," she said clumsily to the man. He hadn't spoken again but his bewildered gaze kept shooting back and forth between her and Nell. She stood up and thrust her hand towards him. "It's very nice to meet you. I've…I've heard such wonderful things about you from your wife."

Nell coughed softly behind her. Bart's trance seemed to break instantly and he took Ginny's hand in both of his, shaking it vigorously.

"Well hello," he said with a plethora of false cheer as he kept shaking her hand. "You…you are…you are here! You are just right here!" He laughed a little too loudly. "In the kitchen! In my-in our kitchen! That is just…something, isn't it honey?"

His head swiveled to Nell, a thousand unspoken questions in his eyes as he continued pumping Ginny's arm.

Nell nodded. Gently, she wrapped her hands around Bart's and Ginny's, stopping the spastic motion.

"Yes, it is quite something." She smiled kindly at Ginny. "But the best things in this world happen when we don't even think to ask for them."

"Really?" Bart asked tightly, eyebrows raised, his overly ecstatic smile still drawn on his face. "That would be your expert opinion, Healer Nixon?"

"Yes," Nell said firmly, her smile becoming a little frosty as she turned to Bart. "It is."

A palpable tension rose in the air as husband and wife continued to eye one another, speaking without words in a language that Ginny wasn't fluent in. She immediately took the hint.

"I should be going back to the inn now," she said, backing away from the pair.

"No, you don't have to-"

"Really, Nell, it's fine. I'm actually a bit knackered. It's been a bit of long day. A nap sounds positively splendid." She walked into the living room to retrieve her purse, Nell trailing behind her.

They reached the front door. Ginny leaned over to give her a quick hug.

"Thank you. For lunch and…everything else that went with it."

"My pleasure. Did it help at all?"

"Yes and no." Ginny shrugged, staring at the floor. "It answered a few questions I don't think I wanted the answers to. It's strange. Every time I think I reach my threshold for pain, I find a completely different capacity to experience it."

"Then I'm afraid you won't like hearing this either: pain, in some cases, can be a good thing."

"How do you figure that?"

"If there's pain, it means we can feel; if we can feel, then we know we're alive; and if we're alive," Nell gave her a knowing look, "then anything is possible."

Ginny nodded, trying to ignore the strange sense of…something indefinable bubbling over in her stomach at Nell's words.

"I'll see you later, I suppose," Ginny said, opening the door. She was almost over the threshold when Nell suddenly grabbed her arm.

"Oh! I can't believe I almost forgot. You have to come to The Feast of Elders with us tonight."

"The what?"

"The Feast of Elders." Nell's eyes glowed with delight. "It's a huge celebration we have once a year to commemorate the founding of Hastom. Actually," she grinned conspiratorially, "you'll come to find that it doesn't take much to get us to let our hair down. Just come tonight. Meet Bart and me in the village square at seven o'clock. It's easy to find, everyone in Hastom will be making their way there. It'll be the most fun you've had in ages."

Ginny bit her lip, undecided.

_Fun. It'd be nice to know what that feels like again,_ she thought wistfully. _Be around people and not be closing yourself up in Luna's flat. It's a feast so it sounds like there'll be food, which I actually seem to be able to stomach at the moment. See new sights; dance to music; be happy and free for once. But what if Harry…_

The memory of hearing her child's heartbeat, only a few hours old, resurfaced in her mind and the recognition hit her as never before:

Harry Potter was not the most important person in her life anymore. Her baby was.

Harry had been the center of her world for years and had left a mark on her heart that would not-could not-ever erase. Even while spending years away from him, he had always stayed with her. All of her actions since the end of their relationship could be traced back to the fact that she wanted to avoid him, forget completely that he and their love existed.

But doing so had almost crushed her into nothingness and she couldn't afford that now; more importantly, her baby couldn't afford that.

There was something about Hastom, about being here, that felt right to Ginny. It was beyond reason and rhyme, but in her heart, being around the almost universal kindness she had received in this mysterious place and its inhabitants made the small village feel like a…like a…

_Home_, she realized with a start.

Right now, at this moment in her life, the one place in the world she belonged was Hastom and she couldn't let go of it.

Not even for Harry.

She looked at Nell, at the hopeful expression on the woman's face, and smiled.

"I'll be there."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Told you this one was going up fast! This is my favorite chapter so far. I think it has a really nice mix of everything in it. Thanks as always to my otherworldly betas for all the work they put into helping me make this presentable. And a special thanks to all the readers who are bringing tears to my eyes sometimes with the amount of love the show this story. This one's for you guys!**

Standing in her room at the Green Swallow that evening, her hair pulled half back and hanging loosely, Ginny couldn't shake the odd feeling that there was something different about her appearance as she prepared for the Feast of Elders. It nagged at the back of her mind, a fly she couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard she tried. It wasn't until her hair was combed out and her makeup was done and she was buttoning the front of her canary yellow sundress that she noticed what the change was.

She stared into the mirror, amazed when she saw how tightly the fabric stretched across her heretofore small bust.

"Oh," she said to her reflection, turning to catch the different angles, a sly smile stretching across her face. "Well…alright then." She gave her stomach a small pat. "I don't suppose you'll hear me saying this much for the next seven months or so but, from the bottom of Mummy's heart, thank you." Happy as she was with her more ample assets, they would take getting used to. She was grateful that there was a slight chill to the air so she could throw on a light cloak before walking downstairs, exiting the inn into the slowly fading sunlight.

Crowds of smiling, laughing people were making their way east and Ginny followed them, her eyes and ears catching everything: the tiny magical fireworks being thrown in the air; the strange but beautiful song several people were singing as others accompanied them on instruments that would appear as fiddles or mouth organs but were producing sounds more akin to beating drums or wind chimes; the colorful streamers people waved in the air that disintegrated into thin air before reappearing in a different shape and size. So caught up was she in the festive atmosphere that she almost didn't notice when she reached the village square. She let out a gasp of wonder.

It was at least ten times the Great Hall of Hogwarts but instead of being confined by walls, it breathed out into the evening sky, surrounding itself by small brick and stone shops and streets amidst the background of an immense forest. Flimsy white strings that shone as brightly as the sun were strung from rooftop to rooftop, creating a luminous canopy with patches of sky pushing through for the hundreds of people, young and old, underneath it greeting one another and accepting food and drink being handed out. But that wasn't what captured Ginny's attention:

An enormous statue stood in the center of the cobblestone street but it was like nothing she had ever seen: Hundreds upon hundreds of gigantic multicolored metal rings hovered in the night sky, the bottommost ring only a hair's breadth over the tip of a tiny, nearly translucent pyramid sitting high atop a raised platform. The rings surrounded each other as they slowly rotated, intersecting seamlessly with one another and were so iridescent that they shimmered and fluttered in the dying light. No two were alike, yet they were all similar and none looked out of place. They all belonged there.

It was so breathtaking that Ginny kept getting nudged as people moved past her as she continued to stare in wonder. She might have stayed there all night had it not been for a deep voice speaking gently in her ear.

"It is miraculous, is it not?" Ginny turned around and found a tall broad shouldered man dressed all in black, with gold eyes and powder white hair pulled back into a ponytail smiling down at her. "I have lived here my whole life, every single day, but the awe for the majesty of it never goes away. On my bad days, I expect it to sometimes. But it never fails me."

Ginny nodded, turning back. "I've never seen anything equal to it," she agreed. "What is it exactly?"

"It has no official name," the middle-aged man explained, his eyes gazing over her curiously as if he were studying for test she was the answer to. "It was forged centuries ago and the wizard who designed it left it no title. I suppose there are some things in this universe too vast and great to be limited to a name. Unfortunately, that is not an issue for me." He stuck out his hand. "I am Sapien Stellner. And you are?"

She took his hand, a little uneasy, and replied, "Ginny Weasley. It's nice to meet you."

The man's smile faltered for only a fraction of second before it returned in full force. "And how are you enjoying your visit to our fair village, Ms. Weasley?"

"How did you know?"

"I am the head of the Council of Hastom, the governing body of all who live here. Visitor Lovegood was most insistent that we allow you to come here in her place. She was quite forceful in her conviction, which is something that is worth remembering." He gently let go of her hand and guided her further into the crowded square. "You have not yet answered my question: Are you enjoying your visit here?"

Ginny thought for a moment of how her day here had gone so far. "Enjoying is a rather strong word. I think the honest answer is I'm still trying to take it all in."

Sapien nodded, waving hello to some of the street vendors whose carts lined every inch of the available sidewalk. "That is the response that most feel at first. And your honesty is a blessing; for it is something we place a high value on here. Hopefully by the end of your stay, you will have experienced all the joy that Hastom has to offer. Visitor Lovegood indicated you would be here for the entire month of July, yes?"

Ginny shrugged and wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. "I-I'm not sure yet. My life is not very settled at the moment," she admitted with a hint of shame. She looked Sapien straight in the eye, gripped with a need to make him understand. "But I think being here will be good for me. It'll help me."

The man looked her over once more, his expression solemn. "Perhaps your presence in Hastom will be good for more than just yourself," he said cryptically, melting back slowly into the crowd.

Ginny frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Citizen Nell Nixon and her husband are over there, near the stand selling Pearapple confections," he said loudly over the increasing noise, pointing behind her. "I hope you have a pleasant evening, Ms. Weasley."

"How did you know I was meeting them here?" she called out, trying to follow the mysterious man as the buoyant crowd threatened to swallow him.

"You will find in your time here that there is nothing I do not or will not know." He bowed to her as he disappeared into a sea of strangers.

Ginny searched for him for a few moments, but he had vanished.

_That was bizarre_, she thought anxiously, making her way to where he had said Nell and Bart would be. _And for Hastom, that's saying something. A man who knows everything? A Seer, like Trelawney? But even she didn't know everything. No one knows everything. It's impossible._

"Nothing is impossible," she heard herself whisper, remembering what both Nell had told her today as well as a conversation in a library many years ago. Before she could dwell on her thoughts, a happy voice called out to her,

"Ginny! Over here!"

Nell and Bart were standing next to a vendor's cart, each holding a long stick of a gooey green and orange swirled candy. Bart bent to steal a bite of Nell's and she swatted him playfully in the stomach. He changed his trajectory and nuzzled her neck instead. With a dull pang of both loss and relief, she noticed there was no one nearby with black hair. Ginny let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as she made her way to them.

Nell clapped lightly when Ginny was in front of them. "You came! We were getting worried you decided to stay in."

"Well if I did, I think I would be the only one in the entire village. This is amazing!"

"Yeah and we're not even on the good part yet," Bart chimed in, his smile small but his eyes less hostile towards her than they had been when they first met. "Wait until after the speech."

"What speech?"

"The head of the Council, Sapien-"

"Stellner," Ginny finished automatically. The pair blinked at her. "I…we met early. When I first arrived in the square."

"Oh. Well," Nell piped in as her husband wrapped his arms around her waist, "anyways, he gives a big speech about the founding of Hastom and what our elders hoped for the village when they created it. After that," she flung her hands in the air, bits of her sweet flying about, "we dance."

"Some of us dance," Bart corrected, checking his hair for sticky residue, "while some of us spin and fail our arms and legs about every which way while others run for their lives."

Nell huffed indignantly, elbowing him. "There is nothing wrong with the way I dance."

"Honey, it's not dancing. It's a seizure to music."

She rolled her eyes at Ginny. "He thinks that just because he took dance lessons when he was teenager that it makes him an authority on the subject."

"You took lessons?" Ginny asked him, grinning madly. She had never met a man who admitted to that. "For how long?"

Bart's cheeks reddened but he chuckled as if he were in on the joke. "Not that long," he tried to say with confidence.

"Five years," Nell immediately said, barely able to hold in her laughter. Ginny joined her and the two of them spent the next fifteen minutes or so ribbing poor Bart while the moon rose above them. He took it well at first but when a few bystanders around them began voicing their opinions on the matter, he felt the need to defend himself.

"It taught balance, strength, and flexibility! Check this out." He tossed the remains of his snack in a bin and urged the small crowd to back away. Standing straight up, he lifted his left leg until it was perpendicular to his right without wobbling. Slowly he hopped in a circle, his leg never lowering. "Okay? Tell me that you are not impressed by that!" he finally declared with passion as he stopped and put his hands on his hips. The two women were nearly hunched over in laughter as the others gave him an encouraging round of applause until they were all distracted by a glowing flash of light overhead that fizzled out after a few seconds.

"It's the speech," Nell said in a hushed voice to Ginny as everyone around them turned to face the towering statue. A tall podium had materialized in front of it and all sound around them faded to whispers. Some people hoisted small children onto their shoulders to see better, but everyone stood at attention. The air crackled with anticipation.

Slowly, as Ginny craned her neck up to see, she saw Sapien Stellner glide up the tall steps of the podium and stand before the entire village of Hastom, raising his wand to his throat before he began to speak in a booming voice,

"Welcome my dear friends," he said, rapt silence answering him. "It is a blessing on us all that we are able to gather here tonight as one community, united not necessarily by shared bloodlines or history, but by one common idea: that we stand stronger together as whole than as hundreds of one.

"It was an idea that first took root in the minds among our ancestors over a thousand years ago. Wizards have not always been guided by reason in their endeavors. That is true of any creature in this world. But there was a time in our history when wars were fought over the slightest of offenses and countless lives destroyed over the petty grudges of a few fools. All magical beings suffered greatly. This bloodshed lasted for generations, until a way for peace was found.

"There were three, in the beginning. Three families who wished their offspring a better life than they had been given by their own parents. They were the O'Mirrens," a gentle smattering of applause rose from the crowd, "the Hawthorns," more applause, "and the Stellners." He smiled fondly at the applause to his family name. "They were all exceptionally powerful witches and wizards but they realized no matter how strong a front they presented, it was futile. Even if they defeated their foes, any peace they created had a limit, a life of its own if you will. It might outlive them and their children; perhaps even the children of their grandchildren's children. But it was not permanent. As long as they lived in a world where Dark magic could enter a man's heart or mind, war was always imminent. So what were they to do?"

"Make a brand new world!" the cheerful voice of a little girl replied back at top volume. The crowd around her hooted and laughed raucously.

"Well, young Madorsa. You seem to know this story very well. Would you like to take over for me this year?" Sapien asked with a grin, nodding down to where the little girl had shouted. He blew her a kiss as the village laughter gently petered out before he continued. "My charming friend is right though: the only way to ensure lasting peace throughout the generations was to create a world where evil itself did not exist. Where truth and honesty prevailed above all and where goodness could flourish without end. There was one flaw in this idea, though: a wizard is not a god. He cannot create a planet and a life force to support it out of his own will or skill. That could never be. But a village," Sapien smiled slowly, his eyes roaming the crowd knowingly, "that could be managed. And so many lifetimes ago on this day, in a quiet spot away from all life around them, all manner of privacy and concealing Charms protecting them, the Elders created their new home. They named it Hastom.

"For this village to work, the Elders realized they needed total secrecy. If anyone who wanted to could set foot in it, they could bring whatever they wanted into it as well. They also knew they needed likeminded people to continue their vision. So once every six months or so, an Elder left the safety of Hastom to venture into the world they had left behind. If they were fortunate to find a soul they deemed worthy, they brought them back here to be judged by the others. If the purity and sincerity of the person's heart was unchallenged, they were allowed to remain here. Over time, new families were born knowing only this wonderful place and the peace it offered.

"Centuries have passed but the goal of Hastom remains the same: to be a haven for those who the world outside tries so very hard to destroy and to help one another better ourselves each day. We have been joined by many others from beyond our borders, regardless of nationality, magical ability, or wealth. We have also lost others to the allure of life beyond Hastom, a life of curiosity and unpredictability. They leave in peace and do us a great service by spreading absurd tales of our village so only the truly worthy even have the nerve to come here. We have lost others still to the life after this one, but we do not mourn them. We celebrate their memory every day, for life itself is something to be celebrated. There are disturbing stories brought to us from the outside; stories of those who choose to desecrate life's meaning by trying to extend their own mortality. But we who embrace the magic of Light know the truth: that every day, every moment, every breath we are given should be celebrated. For we are given the gift of only a short time on this Earth and to squander or abuse it is a crime.

"So, dear ones, I ask only this of you tonight: Be safe, be joyful, and most of all be surrounded by life." With a gesture of salute, he raised his wand to the sky; a brilliant array of colors lit the night as the village of Hastom roared with glee, none louder than Ginny herself as she wiped a few stray tears from her eyes. Strains of thumping music could be heard wafting over the crowd as people started congregating around a white dance floor that had sprung around the perimeter of the statue.

Nell linked her arms through Bart and Ginny's, tugging them both forward with a devilish grin on her face. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Ginny replied with a bounce, afraid the happiness would bubble out of her onto the street. She doubted anyone would mind if it did. Not waiting for Bart's answer, the trio plunged themselves into the mass or twirling, stomping bodies.

They could have danced for moments or hours; Ginny wasn't sure nor did she care. She drank sweet nectar trustingly from other's goblets being passed about when she was thirsty and swallowed mouthfuls of succulent beef and bread when she was hungry in between spins around the floor. When her feet ached, she simply followed the lead of others and flung her shoes off to the side. She talked and listened and sang loudly with more people than she could count as she spun from partner to partner. Bart's assessment of his wife proved to be true; whatever Nell was doing could not be described as dancing, but the joy was so pure on her face, Ginny didn't have the heart to take the mickey out of her.

It was fun. More fun than Ginny had had in years. Her past wasn't her past, her present had no meaning, and her future was limitless as she swayed in time to the music.

Eventually, the crowd started to thin. Vendors shut down their carts and the lights overhead dimmed slightly. Families with small children and elderly couples began making their way home (past the privacy ward erected so they could have a peaceful night's sleep) and the music began to slow. Couples held each other close and the energy of the night shifted. The evening started to catch up with Ginny and she gave a great yawn as she made her way to sit down on a bench.

It was then that she saw him.

_It's been so long. I shouldn't still know what his walk looks like_, she thought, sighing as she watched Harry, head hunched down with his back to her, walk down a street all by himself. She couldn't remember spotting him from the dance floor at any point. All the enjoyment she had taken from the evening lessened dramatically when she realized that her presence had probably kept him at a distance from his friends and the celebration of his adopted home. The enthusiasm she had for the Feast of Elders slowly faded but the true meaning of it, and Hastom, stayed in her mind. It would not be easy, but she knew what she had to do.

_This is the only life I'll ever have. If I want Harry to be in it again, I have to try and make this right._

Straightening her shoulders, she set off to follow him but a hand on her shoulder held her back. Bart gently tugged her around to face him.

"Where's Nell?" she asked before he could speak.

Bart nodded back behind him. His wife was kneeling on the ground next to an old man who was clutching his knee in pain. "Mr. Calloway thinks he's about sixty years younger than he actually is when he starts dancing," Bart explained casually.

"Right." An uncomfortable silence hatched between them before Bart cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Are you going to go talk to Harry?"

"Yeah, I am," Ginny answered, not taking her eyes from his as she prepared for a challenge.

Bart merely nodded in understanding.

"My wife," he said, "told me back at the house that I should give you a chance. That there was more than the image of you that I invented in my mind over the years based on what I heard from Harry. So despite any misgivings I had, because my wife is the smartest person I've ever known, I agreed to. And I'm glad I did because I do like you, Ginny." He smiled at her. "I really didn't want to but I do. Maybe someday, you and I can even be friends too. But if that's ever going to happen, there's something you need to know."

"What's that?"

Bart snickered to himself, scuffing his feet amongst the debris of the feast. "I've got a sob story; a real doozy of a sob story. If we get to be pals, you might just be unlucky enough to hear it someday. But the moral of my story is that I don't have a lot of family in my world, okay?" Ginny nodded, trying to see where he was going. "I've got friends coming out of every orifice: friends that are great for a beer, a laugh, a game of cards, and a couple of nights that I cannot for the life of me remember. Friendship has always been easy for me, but family…that one's tricky. Nell was the first real family I ever had. And family is tough, a lot tougher than friendship. It's scarier. When someone hurts a friend, you can find a way to let it go. When someone hurts family, you have to carry it as much as they do. But it's worth it, you know? The tradeoffs are unbelievable."

"Bart, what are you trying to say?"

"My point is this: Nell is one part of my family and that guy," he pointed in the direction Harry had just walked, "is the other. Apart from a creepy guy with a big snake trying to kill him all the time, he and I didn't grow up all that differently. I love him like a brother. We might not have gone through everything that he and Ron did, but I truly believe I helped him get through one of the most difficult times of his life." He looked at her significantly; Ginny nodded in acceptance as Bart shrugged in resignation. "Look whatever you're going to say to him tonight, just be honest about it. And whatever he needs to say to you just let him say it. He's got a lot to get off of his chest when it comes to you; a lot of things that have been holding him back for years. Even if it's painful, let him say it. Because as much as it hurts you to hear, remember that Harry's been the one living with it."

She couldn't help it. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Bart's neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him.

"What's going on right now?"

"I'm thanking you."

"For what?"

"Caring so much about him," Ginny replied, not loosening her grip and laying her head on his shoulders, trying to put all her gratitude towards Bart for being a champion to Harry into the hug. "I'm really glad he found you and Nell."

Tentatively, Bart wrapped his arms her waist. "Me too," he said huskily. He squeezed her a bit more firmly and her sensitive breasts pressed tighter against his chest. She flinched in pain and pulled back.

"Ouch," she hissed to herself, looking down at her chest in annoyance. "These things are going to take some getting used to."

Bart's eyes zeroed in and then immediately looked away from her chest. "Ah," he drawled loudly before he cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I guess that's what they call the joys of pregnancy." Ginny stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"Ho-how did you know?" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Nell didn't…?"

"No! No, of course not," he assured her quickly. "Harry did."

"What?" Ginny asked, even more upset. "Why would he ever…He said he wouldn't tell until-"

"He was drunk," Bart cut in rapidly, silencing her train of thought. "He came back early from New York a few weeks ago, out of the blue, and just got absolutely bombed like I haven't seen him since…never mind. What I mean is this: Harry didn't intend to betray your confidence. You know he's not that kind of guy. It just slipped out of him by accident. And you don't need to worry; I am good with secrets. Used to be part of my job description after all. No one else has heard or is going to hear about that," he gesticulated wildly at her midsection, "from my lips."

"Okay," Ginny nodded, mollified but still somewhat shaken by the knowledge that seeing her had apparently prompted Harry to go on a drinking binge. Her nerves were faltering and she knew if she intended to speak to Harry, she had to do it soon before her fear won out. "Is there anything I should know?"

"Nope, that about covers it. Harry's house is down by the lake. Just stay straight on the road and you won't be able to miss it." He walked backwards, his hands shoved in his pockets. "I'll, uh, leave you to it then."

"Okay." She turned around and started down the street again.

"And Ginny?" Bart called, waiting for her to face him before he smiled faintly at her. "I really do hope we get to be friends someday."

"Me too," she agreed. Gathering her courage once more, she set off down the road.

Her courage ebbed and flowed with each step. She talked herself into going back to the inn at least two dozen times, but no matter how much her resolve weakened, her feet kept moving forward, unhindered by her doubt, as the houses around her grew increasingly further apart and the perfectly lined cobblestone streets turned into a dirt path. Finally, she saw it to her left: A sloping, winding path that led to a spacious wood cottage with a stone chimney sitting by a huge lake, black with night. Squinting, she could just make out his figure standing alone on a small, brightly lit dock.

_Here we are then. All that's left to do is step in the water and come out the other side._

"Please, please let me do this right," she whispered to herself as she slowly made her way down the hill. "Please don't let me make this any worse than it is."

The air around the lake was tranquil and nearly silent. As she reached the platform of the dock, she saw his head turn slightly; he didn't acknowledge her but he didn't demand that she turn away. Taking in a shaky breath, she made her way to stand beside him, each step an exercise in nervousness and indecision, until she stood to his left, her shoulder only a few inches from his.

The silence was both torture and reprieve. It felt awful not knowing how to talk to him but at the same time, the longer she didn't speak, the longer it would be that she didn't have to apologize to Harry for protecting him by causing him so much pain. He didn't make a sound next to her or move to go inside. All she could do was stand still, gazing out at the vastness of the lake in front of her and the deep, plentiful wooded island out in the middle of it.

"It's beautiful," she heard herself say quietly. Beside her, she felt Harry turn toward her but she kept her eyes locked ahead.

_Okay, toe is in the water. Let's see what it feels like up to our knees._

"This place," she clarified, forcing her head to turn right and look into his restrained eyes. "The property around here is magnificent. Only thing it's missing is a Quidditch pitch then it'd be perfect."

Harry still didn't speak for a moment. She began to question her sanity for thinking it was a good idea to approach him, that there was any chance to find a sense of normalcy between them. Just as she was about to bid him a clumsy goodbye, he jutted his head to the side, to the woods across the lake.

"It's over there," he said distantly, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, "past the tree line. Had to buy the whole sodden island to put it in. Then I had to petition the Council to build the thing, but once I told them that the Quidditch pitch would be open to the community, they unanimously approved." He smiled a little. "We have a whole league and everything."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a bit of pride, relaxing his stiff posture ever so. "It's a bit like at Hogwarts. We play from September to June, but we have eight teams here, all ages and such. We have a great big cup with the winner's names on it that's displayed at the Millennium Falcon. The winners, if they're of age, don't have to pay for a drink all summer. If the winners are kids, then its fifty Galleons worth of products from Beaglebee's Toy Shop. I think people like that more than the cup."

"That's great, Harry. I'm glad you still get to play."

"No, I don't…I gave the playing part up. I coach a team of the younger kids. We placed third this year and I think if Paddy Dorbin gains a bit more confidence between the hoops, we've got a real shot at winning it all next year," he said with a fraction of a smile.

If Ginny hadn't been trying to understand what he had just said, she would have been ecstatic his lips could give her a smile of any sort. But as it was, she was too confused to process it.

"You coach Quidditch," she stated, squinting as she tried to connect the dots, "but you don't play yourself anymore?"

He shook his head indifferently, turning back to the lake. "Quidditch…it's just not for me anymore, I suppose."

"Were you injured?" She tried to remember Ron mentioning an injury but she couldn't. "Can you not play because of that?"

"No, I'm perfectly healthy. I just choose not to."

"But why-?"

"Ginny please," he said impatiently, facing her again. "It isn't a big deal. There's nothing mysterious about it. I just don't play a sport anymore. That's all there is to it."

The acceptance, the finality of that statement threatened to drive Ginny around the twist. Harry Potter deciding not to play Quidditch, even as a friendly game, was equal to a bird choosing not to fly or a river refusing to run or her mother deciding she never wanted to cook again. There was no sense to it whatsoever.

She wanted so badly to understand. She felt like she could taste the questions on the tip of her tongue. But everything about Harry's stance told her the subject was dropped as far as he was concerned.

"Well," she finally managed to say, "I bet that you're a really great coach. You were definitely one of the best captains I ever had."

He nodded slowly. Bending down, he picked up a smooth white pebble from a rusty bucket by his feet. He chucked the stone into the inky black water, listening as the stone gave a few quiet splashes before he smoothly picked up another. "So you think you'll be around here long enough to see my coaching prowess in person?" he asked mid throw.

"Um, no," she said, tucking her cloak around her a little tighter. "I'm only staying until the end of July." She laughed quietly to herself. "To tell you the truth, I shouldn't even stay that long. I should be out looking for a job and a place to live. But I guess I just needed a bit of an escape from reality."

"Prince Charming really left you high and dry, didn't he?"

The barb stung like a whip lash, but she bit back her angry retort. He was certainly entitled to be sarcastic and cruel if he wanted to be.

"Yeah," she said instead, letting her hair fall around her red cheeks. "Yeah, he did. But I suppose I had it coming."

Harry stopped his almost rhythmic throwing and cursed under his breath. "No, you didn't," he said, his tone softer. "You were…with him a long time. He should have treated you with more respect, no matter the circumstances."

There it was. The door would never be held open wider for her. She just had to find it in herself to walk through.

"I should-" she started to say, her tongue freezing to the roof of her mouth. She shook her head, taking in a deep breath before she tried again, "I should have treated you better when I…when I broke things off between us." She turned to face him head on, hoping she was able to do this without breaking apart as his eyes fixed in on her own. "I shouldn't have just shut you out without an explanation. I should have been brave enough to make you understand why I couldn't be with you anymore. What you went through…what I was told about what you went through, that shouldn't have happened. It was so unfair to you and I know you have no reason to, but please believe me when I say that hurting you was absolutely the last thing in the world that I wanted. After everything you did-all the sacrifices you made to save us all from Voldermort- the one thing you were entitled to was peace and I will never be able to apologize enough for stealing that from you in any way."

_Alright, Ginevra. The water's up to your shoulders now. You're almost there. _

"I-I am sorry, Harry," she said forcefully, hoping against hope she could hold the fragile grasp she had on her emotions just a little longer. "The words aren't enough; I don't know if there will ever be anything that's enough to right what I did. If," she swallowed, trying to stop herself from trembling, "if you can't ever for-forgive me, that's…I understand completely. That's perfe-" She stopped short, trying in vain to get control of her warring emotions.

She was so focused on that task that she barely heard what Harry said.

"I don't want that," he said haltingly. She stared at him, baffled, as his own emotions broke through the surface. "What I mean is, I want to find a way past our…past, for lack of a better term." He smiled grimly at her. "I don't hate you. Maybe, at one time I did, but holding on to that kind of hurt and anger? That's what breeds Dark magic and I will never let that touch my soul again.

"But there is something that I need to know and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?" he asked her imploringly, his eyes begging.

Unable to speak, she nodded briskly.

"Was it really just my job that made you leave?" he asked in a tiny whisper. "Was it really something that inconsequential that pushed you away?"

_Here we are. Just hold your breath and plunge right in. Go slow if you need to, but keep going, no matter what. _

_It's time to sink or swim._

"That…that job was your life," she tried to argue, her voice cracking against the tears. "The only thing you ever wanted for yourself."

"No," he disagreed, taking a step towards her and invading her personal space. She immediately stepped back. "It wasn't. **You **were my life. **You **were the-"

"But I shouldn't have been!" she shouted hoarsely into the still night as Harry stared at her in disbelief. She took in a hulking breath as she tried to sort her thoughts into words. "You…you were wonderful when you realized how much help I needed with my depression my last year of school. You made it your mission to protect me and make me strong. But you let that good intention take you over completely. And some of it was my responsibility. I could see how bad things were getting and I didn't do enough to help you. I saw it all, but I couldn't stop it: You threatened people; you lost focus at your job; you closed yourself off from your friends who loved you and you…you almost…Harry you almost died because of it," she choked out. She started to walk back up the dock slowly, nearly overcome as she struggled to remember the past without reliving it.

Harry caught up with her immediately, grasping both of her shoulders to keep her in place.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to meet her teary eyes. "You can't mean…the explosion? You think that was your fault?"

"Of course it was!" she said angrily, squirming away from his hold. She had worked so hard to try not to think of that awful day that the memories were hitting her aching heart with the force of cannon fire.

Harry looked at her in wonder, mouth agape. "How could ever think that you were responsible for that?"

"You were distracted! Thinking about me and that stupid appointment we were going to that afternoon! You admitted it when you woke up, it was the first thing you said!"

"So what if I was thinking about you?" he cried out, his façade of control melting away. "That day had nothing to do with you! Were you the informant that tipped us off about the whole operation to begin with? Did you go into that building with those lunatics and rig it to blow up as a security measure? Were you the Auror still sporting a hangover from the night before who declared the damn place clear without casting a spell to check for combustible entities before the rest of us went in?"

"Ron told me he saw you reading a piece of paper when the Detecting Charm went off. He said you stuffed it in your pocket when everyone else began Apparting away. I searched your clothes in the hospital and the only paper I found was that godforsaken letter I wrote you three days before! Don't you dare try and tell me I didn't have a hand in almost costing you your life!"

Harry's face twisted in fury and without a word, he stalked past her back to the end of the dock. He reached into the bucket for more rocks and started flinging them violently into the lake, one by one.

Ginny wiped her cheeks with both hands, wanting nothing more than for it to be over. There was no part of her mind, body, and soul that didn't feel bruised and broken. It wasn't healthy for her to be here now, feeling like she had just done battle with six Death Eaters on her own. Everything she felt, her daughter felt as well. If she felt ready to drop to the floor and sleep for three days from this, the baby couldn't be faring much better. She had to leave.

But not before finishing what she had started.

"What I did to you was cruel," she said reluctantly, raising her voice so he would hear her. Harry never stopped casting the stones into the water but she continued, "My only defense is that I was scared and that I truly believed leaving you was the only way to help you. I really am sorry. More than you will ever know.

"But I think maybe in the end, it **was **a good thing, my leaving you," she said, trying to salvage a small bit of hope for the whole awful situation. "What happened led you here, to this lovely place, where you can live in peace; to your own home, without any dreadful reminders of losing Sirius or your parents in it; to people that you love and make you happy, like Bart and Nell and…and Meredith. You have-"

The small stone whizzed right past her head. She didn't see it in the darkness but she heard it whistle loudly past her ear and thud down a few feet behind her on the wood. She stared frozen at Harry's appalled face.

"I-I didn't me-mean to," he stuttered, horrified and shaking. He stepped forward and she instantly stepped back. He stopped and cupped his hands over his face in shame, staying silent as her heart eased back into beating. Finally, he lowered his hands, tears glistening in his eyes. Even though he had just frightened her, she couldn't help but want to reach out and comfort him. "I'm sorry. I swear it was an accident, Ginny. I was already throwing the blasted rock and it was coming out of my hand when I turned around to talk to you. I know things were…heated between us just now, but you have to know that I would never, **ever-**"

"I do," she assured him, taking a few steps closer, thankful her long dress and cloak hid her shaking limbs. He sniffed harshly and nodded, rubbing the sleeve of his jacket over his face. "You're not violent unless you have to be. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's just…you haven't been in my life for three years and to hear you speak as if you somehow know who I am now or what I feel…" He ran his hands through his hair, walking contemplatively in a slow, tight circle before he straightened his face wan and tired. "Whatever happened between us, there's nothing to be done about it now. We are who we are now. The only thing we have control over is moving forward."

"You're right," she agreed, stepping a little closer.

He tried to smile at her but couldn't; he did, however, take a cautious step forward. He hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers against his thigh nervously. Ginny wondered if she should say goodnight when Harry blurted out in a rush, "Maybe, sometime later this week, you could have dinner with Bart, Nell, and me at the pub. The three of us try to get together for dinner once a week. You could join us…if you'd like to."

She felt like a tiny finger poke to her forehead would knock her head over her feet. Was this really happening?

Ginny nodded once, empathetically. "I would like that very much."

"Good. Then…we'll try to set that up," he said, studying her closely. An owl hooted somewhere nearby. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "It's late. I should let you get back into town."

"Right, of course." She smiled a little brighter at him. "Good night, Harry," she said gently before turning to head back on the path.

"Wait a minute," Harry called out, walking to catch up with her. "Why aren't you Apparating?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I tried it when I got back to London, but it made me feel all out of sorts. Maybe it's a pregnancy," she winced at the word, hating to bring it up after they had reached a plateau, "thing of some kind."

Harry merely nodded as he walked beside her away from his house. "You should…you should talk to Nell about that," he suggested, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Right. Harry, why are you following me?"

"Just walking you back to the Green Swallow. That's where you're staying, isn't it?" She nodded. "Okay then. Let's get you back there then."

"Alright," she replied, looking ahead on the road as he did the same.

It wasn't complete forgiveness nor was it an acknowledgement that her rash actions in the past had provided Harry with a path to a good life in Hastom. It wasn't a fresh new start with bygones being bygones or even the outlandish hope of a friendship between the two of them.

It was only Harry walking her back into town and nebulous plans for dinner with Bart and Nell.

But compared to even twenty-fours ago, it was a wealth of riches to Ginny.

_Look at that. You swam._


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I'm really shocked I got this chapter done as quickly as I did. I hope you enjoy it. Side note, any fans of Warwick Davis may enjoy this chapter more than others. As always, this story is nothing without my betas. My lack of skill with punctuation would make all you readers wonky if not for them. Please read, rejoice, and respond!**

Ginny stared up resolutely at the ceiling, mustering every ounce of determination and fortitude she possessed. She was a Gryffindor and quitting did not come easily to her.

And in this case, failure was **not** an option.

_You can do this, Ginevra Molly Weasley. You have survived Death Eaters, heartbreak, being controlled by a Horcrux, and growing up with six older brothers. This is child's play compared to all that. _

"This is possible," she affirmed to herself. "Completely possible to do without any magic whatsoever."

Sucking in a deep breath, she reached down and started tugging the zipper of her jean shorts up, grunting with the effort. The tiny scarp of metal cooperated for a second before halting its progress; no matter how ferociously Ginny pulled at it or how much she twisted around on the small bed, the zipper refused to budge a millimeter more. Splaying back against the bed, she caught her breath and looked down, dismayed to see how far apart the closure on the shorts still was. She beat her fists against the comforter in aggravation.

"Sweetheart," she huffed to her belly, "I love you and you really have no idea how much Mummy appreciates the new knockers you gave her, but did everything else have to get bigger along with them? You're only three months grown and already Mummy can't fit into her regular clothes. That just doesn't seem right, does it?"

Not getting (or expecting) a reply, Ginny groaned loudly, reaching blindly to the side table for her wand. Muttering mutinously, she cast a quick Charm, expanding the fabric of her shorts so they could close. She then stood and, adjusted the straps of the billowy navy top that kept her cleavage secure, avoiding the mirror at all costs. She grabbed her purse and sun glasses and left her room to head downstairs.

Mrs. Nettles was carrying a tray of teacups filled with steaming pink liquid to a pair of guests in the sitting room when she spotted Ginny at the foot of the stairs.

"Well, don't you look lovely dear," she croaked out. "I see that you're feeling much better since this morning."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Nettles. This one," she indicated to her stomach, "is definitely a girl: she likes nothing better than to cause Mummy grief by sapping away all my energy. Do you need any help with that tray?"

"No, not at all." She set the tray on the coffee table and scuttled over to the front desk where a pair of olive-toned women with silky black hair wearing bright floral saris waited patiently. "You just go on your way. Off to the Falcon again, are you?"

"Yes. I thought I'd meet up with Nell there and see if Bart could sneak away for the evening. Maybe we'll head off for a night of people watching in the square or some gelato from Onzoni's or-"

"A moonlit picnic by the lake?" Mrs. Nettles asked suggestively, her good eye giving Ginny a knowing once over.

She coolly pulled her wide glasses on, blushing scarlet, keeping her head held high. "It's a warm night," Ginny said nonchalantly. "If we should happen to end up, at some point, in the vicinity of the lake, I imagine we'll have a delightful time there. Thank you for the idea."

"You're welcome," the inn keeper said, hidden behind the tall desk. As she walked past, the two women who were checking in smiled at her and cupped their hands to their mouths, blowing lightly in her direction. A refreshing breeze of sea salt tinged air instantly washed over her. Ginny smiled kindly at them and exited to the muggy street, weaving around a group of smartly dressed men wearing tiny bowler hats on their heads as they entered the inn.

_Silly old Mrs. Nettles_, she thought, basking in the slowly fading sunlight of the peaceful Friday twilight, the air of the Indian Ocean still tingling across her skin. _Ever since he brought me back to the inn the night of the feast and she figured out that Harry and I had once been a Harry and I, she's been nothing but a meddling meddler who meddles! Every day, telling me how nice it is to see two old friends renew a friendship or offering up a story about all the good Harry does here in Hastom or reminding me what to order for Harry if he's late meeting us for dinner at the pub. As if I need to be told that!_

"Shepard's Pie with onions instead of peas and an ice cold Butterbeer," she mumbled, digging through her purse for loose change as she walked down the sidewalk. "If he ever ordered anything else when he ate out, I'd put my wand to his throat and ask him an old security question."

It didn't mean anything at all.

Finally succeeding in pulling two Knuts out of her purse, she glanced around the crowded street for the elderly man selling Arcus Violets, whose name she had learned was Mr. Chornin. Any time she walked by the area, she slipped a coin or two in the cracked pewter cauldron he kept at his sides, but she had to be careful about it. If he ever spotted her, he would try to put another one of his priceless flowers into her hand. She had avoided it thus far, but Ginny had had to make more than one mad dash away from the surprisingly fleet footed gentleman to avoid his generosity, throwing a smile over her shoulder at his creased yet laughing face, his seemingly frail body draped in robes of the richest purple.

It was a fun game, but it was growing costly. Even with Luna footing the bill for her stay at the Green Swallow, her money supply was dwindling, what with buying all the food her body now craved rather than repelled and paying Nell for the recording of her baby's heartbeat she listened to every night before falling asleep. Nell had charged her only a fraction of what it actually cost, but it still lightened Ginny's coin purse significantly.

Not that it mattered in the scheme of things. The sound of the little heart that beat faster than the wings of a hummingbird was the most soothing lullaby Ginny had ever known.

But it would mean that her stay in Hastom would be ending sooner rather than later. At her current rate, she only had enough money left to last for a week or so. She still needed to have some money when she returned to London to begin saving for her own flat and finding a job. As dear a friend as Luna was for taking her in, Ginny had too much Weasley blood flowing through her to accept that kind of charity for too long.

**She **would get a job somewhere. **She **would provide for her child. **She **would be able to stand on her own two feet.

As soon as she could find a way to leave this wonderful place behind.

_If only Hastom hadn't rooted itself in my heart so quickly_, she thought with a sigh, slowing her pace as the unusually large crowd of people moved through the streets with the speed of molasses, dozens upon dozens of unfamiliar faces stopping frequently to browse through bins of exotic treats or haggle over a pair of hand-made dragon skin boots.

Hastom had seemed so frightening when she first arrived, but now as the clocked ticked down on her time here and she thought of all she would have to leave behind, the melancholy wrapped around her like a slowly constricting noose.

No more lunches every day with Nell, gossiping like schoolgirls one minute and revealing long-kept childhood secrets the next.

No more harmlessly needling Bart by pretending she couldn't understand a word he said with that pronounced American accent of his.

No more running away from Mr. Chornin and his beautiful flowers.

No more Mrs. Nettles rolling her eye in annoyance most days while still making sure there was a fresh pot of tea and a plate of ginger biscuits everyday by the bedside table.

No more four hour-long debates about modern Quidditch tactics over a plate of powdery churros with Senor Batista, the owner of the Quidditch supply shop and a former Beater for the Spanish national team forty-five years ago.

No more nods of friendly greeting and cheerful waves of hello from the townspeople, many of whom may have known only her name, but all of whom embraced her willingly.

No more staring up at that beautiful yet baffling metal structure in the center of the square, watching the rings as they danced an unfamiliar dance to a soundless song, wondering if like Sapien Stellner she would ever dare feel anything other than humble in its shadow.

And of course, no more stilted conversations with Harry at the dinners they shared with the Nixons or any brief glimpses of him as she explored Hastom.

After their confrontation at the lake, things had been understandably strained between them. As much as she (and perhaps he) desired a path back to friendship, that same desire did not erase years of her guilt or his frustrations. Their only true interactions were their dinners a few times a week with their friends and it was far too problematic-for Ginny at least-to try to shift through their dirty laundry together in the company of others; to try to find a topic in their history that was unsoiled and that they could use to start to bridge the gap of their then and their now.

When her frustration hit a peak, she had to fight the urge to march down to his front door and wait for him to return home from work; to finish what they started that night on the dock and to try to help him heal the wounds she had inflicted upon him all those years ago. But that would be too much. She had already thrown him off course by stumbling back into his life in New York, and when she walked into the door of the Millennium Falcon that first day in Hastom, it had to have been the equivalent of a sucker punch to the kidneys. She was on his turf now and after everything, she owed him the courtesy of letting him decide how far and how fast he wanted to go with this whole thing.

Even if his tortoise-like pace made her want to pluck out her hair, strand by strand, to relieve her tension.

_Doesn't look like you'll have to worry about that much longer_, she mused, the noose tightening ever so slightly.

Walking by the spot where she usually found Mr. Chornin, she was surprised to find that his footstool and his little cauldron were sitting all alone. She turned slowly in a circle, wondering if this was a new game and he would pop out from behind a crate peacock feathers to scare her, but there was no sign of him or his purple robes anywhere. A quick word with a few of the other vendors who frequented the busy street proved fruitless in her search for the old man.

She bit her lip, uneasy but not knowing why. Mr. Chornin was almost as old as Auntie Muriel; surely he just needed a day off every now and again. It was nothing to sound the alarm over. Ginny would just ask Nell if she knew where Mr. Chornin lived and see if they could quickly pop in on him. Perhaps the healer was already at his home now, giving him a dose of Pepperup Potion as a pot of Bart's scrumptious beef stew simmered on the stovetop.

Shifting her gaze between the cauldron and the coins in her palm, she hoped that she was right. Pocketing the Knuts uneasily, she made her way to the heavy doors of the Falcon and yanked them open, greeted by the happy chatter and laughter of the early dinner crowd. She found Bart in an old apron over his black t-shirt and jeans behind the long oak bar, huddled in conversation with Nell as she sat hunched on one of the barstools, the hem of her light green skirt almost touching the pale wood floor. Intent on finding out about Mr. Chornin, Ginny peeled off her sunglasses and walked right up to them, standing behind Nell.

"Listen," Ginny began, "I wanted to ask about-"

"SWITZERLAND!" Nell shrieked, nearly falling off the stool as she whirled around to face Ginny, who clutched her chest in fright. Wincing slightly, Nell turned away from the other patrons looking over at her and back to her husband, whispering to him, "That wasn't subtle, was it?"

"No," he confirmed gently, patting her hand. "Not in any time, place, or culture would that have been considered subtle." He smiled at Ginny. "Can I get you some water?"

"Sure thanks," Ginny said, still staring dumbfounded at Nell, all thoughts of Mr. Chornin extinguished from her mind at the use of that ridiculous code word. The code word invented by Nell to prevent the fractious relationship between Harry and Ginny from bleeding over into the friendships they shared with Bart and Nell.

At the first of several dinners together three nights after the feast, Nell had sat them all down in a quiet corner of the Millennium Falcon and faced Harry and Ginny, an earnest expression on her face.

"Listen very carefully," she had said, staring between the two of them as they sat across from each other. "I want us all to get along with each other as much as we possibly can. Given your…history, I know that won't be easy for either of you. And that's okay. It's going to take you both some time to adjust to being around one another again." Ginny had wanted to look away, already anxious about being around Harry again; however he didn't seem to be taking his eyes off of Nell so neither could she. "But what's not okay would be the two of you putting Bart and me in the middle of this whole thing. Neither of you have yet, which I commend you for, but in order to prevent any future catastrophes, I'm launching a preemptive strike now."

"Meaning what exactly?" Harry asked.

"Meaning that as of this moment, here and now, Bart and Nell Nixon are officially-"

"Switzerland," Bart chimed in helpfully from his place at the table opposite his wife. "We are the country of Switzerland insomuch as how they present themselves in matters of international diplomacy."

Ginny looked to Nell for a translation. "I'm sorry?" she asked.

"He means," Harry answered instead, rolling his eyes at his friend, "that they're neutral. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are, Mr. Potter," Nell agreed heartily. "Bart and I have decided for the sake of friendships, both longstanding and budding, we cannot get involved in matters between the two of you. This means: No trying to turn either of us against either of you if you-knock on wood-hit a rough patch."

"No having us pass backhanded messages along to either of you," Bart added.

"No fighting in front of us."

"No asking our opinions on who's right or who's wrong."

"No using 'Bart said this' or 'Nell said that' in private arguments between the two of you."

"And most importantly," Bart finished sternly, pointing his finger back and forth between Harry and Ginny, looking at them with seriousness. He paused for dramatic effect before finishing, "Absolutely no running whatsoever near the pool. You have no idea how easy it is to slip, crack your skull open, and drown. Understand?"

The tension lifted immediately. The four of them groaned and giggled together for a few moments as Bart signaled the busy bartender to come and take their drink order. Ginny took great pleasure in hearing Harry's laugh again. She had gone too long without it.

Harry wiped his glasses with a napkin. "Anything else or can we eat? I'm starving."

"Just one more thing," Nell said, composing herself. "We know it sounds harsh, but Bart and I really think that this is the best way to go about things for-"

"All her idea. Just a willing participant. Take no credit or blame for the outcome," Bart said under the guise of a long cough, hiding his mouth behind his closed fist. He quelled instantly under his wife's stern gaze. "S-Sorry. Think I'm coming down with something, honey," he apologized while rubbing his throat.

"For as long as Ginny is staying here," Nell concluded, shaking her head at her husband. "And I'm not saying we're completely killing off the topic of you two from any forms of discussion." She waved both her hands in the space between Harry and Ginny. "We'll listen to both of you whenever you need a friendly ear or a shoulder to lean on if it gets to be too much. But please-and I cannot stress this enough-don't put Bart and I in the middle of this. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Bart said, still pretending to clear his throat.

Ginny looked carefully at Harry and was surprised to find him staring right back at her, the twin pools of emerald trying to size her up. The back of her neck burned, but she would not look away.

She would find a way to remain in control around him, even if it killed her.

"Agreed," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow slightly at Harry, daring him to object.

He thought for a moment, glancing between the different faces before finally settling on Ginny's again, his eyes maddeningly unreadable. "Agreed," he finally said quietly, quirking his lips upward. She felt floored as her heart hammered with hope; perhaps friendship was a possibility between them after all. No sooner had she begun to return his infectious little smile than the bartender turned up at their table.

"You like usual, _Herr_ Nixon?" the burly man with more red hair on his face than on his head asked politely. "Round of _bier_ and then meal?"

"Oh, just a glass of ice water for me please," Ginny cut in before Bart could speak, turning her smile to the bartender. He nodded back graciously and went to fill their order. Bart began to tell Ginny a little about the German-born bartender, Klaus, who had been at the Falcon before it even was the Falcon. She listened but glanced quickly back to Harry, more than a little disheartened to find him looking away from her, his mouth a straight line once again as he listened to his friend speak.

There had been no mention of Switzerland since that night on Ginny's end; whatever Harry discussed with them was his business, but she was careful from then on not to foist her inner turmoil on her new friends.

Though now it seemed it was being foisted on **her** by **them**.

"What's going on?" she asked them, sitting down next to Nell. "Were you talking about me and Harry just then? I thought that was against the rules?"

Nell let out a high pitched squeal of laughter that lasted a few seconds too long.

"What?" she giggled, her blue eyes bugged wide. Bart bent down and came back with a bottle of water for Ginny. Waving his hand indiscernibly, the sound around the three of them faded to a small hum in the background. He leaned against the bar as his wife blathered on. "You…you are funny, you are, Ginevra. That's what you are. Say, how did your parents ever come up with that name for you? Is it a family name? I had a great-grandfather named Gupenious. We all called him Guppy for short. He didn't like to swim though so it was…strange." Nell's breathing kicked up a notch, her blue eyes somehow widening even further as Ginny folded her arms across her chest. "Bart, darling, help me please?"

"I would," he told her, chin in his hand, "but there's just something about you when you try and lie on the spot. It's like watching a legally blind man try to play darts: You want to look away, cringing in embarrassment and praying no one gets hurt, but there's something in you that just has to see what's going to happen."

"That is so-"

At her wit's end, Ginny snapped her fingers between them to get their attention.

"Hey! Can you two save your bickering for your marital bed, where it belongs, and tell me why you," she jutted her chin at a flushed Nell, "screamed out Switzerland when you saw me?" Husband and wife traded a series of head bobs and shakes in her direction, their eyebrows arching up and down absurdly. Ginny felt an enormous headache forming all the way from the back of her skull. "Anytime this century would be wonderful!"

"Okay, okay. Fine," Bart said, raising his hands in defeat. He opened Ginny's water, handing it to her before he continued, "Have you noticed today that there are a lot of people here in town? More so than usual?"

"Yes," she said, thinking back on the people at the inn and the peaceful mob scene near the shops she had just walked by. "What does that have to do with Switzerland?"

"Well, once a month, citizens of Hastom are allowed to bring in guests from the outside. It's all completely safe; no one evil gets in because the guests need approval from the Council like Luna got for you, but unlike you, they have no official status here. Not everything here is open to them: just the town healer, the commercial areas, the residences of the citizens they're staying with, or the Green Swallow Inn. Everything else is off limits."

Ginny held up her hand to pause him, confused. "But what else is there in Hastom?"

Bart smiled slowly at her, shaking his head. "Man, have we neglected our duties as your chosen tour guides. Don't worry. We'll let you in on the real wonders of this place soon enough." He winked and before she could inquire further, he plowed on. "Anyways, this weekend Hastom is going to be packed to the brim with people."

"And what does that have to do with me and Harry?"

He looked down, wiping the spotless countertop. Reluctantly, Nell said, "It means that Harry has a visitor here this weekend."

"Okay," Ginny said, still not understanding. "Who is…?"

And with the force of a steam engine hitting right between her eyes, she did understand. Bart and Nell had both shown themselves to be nothing but honest and straightforward. There was only one person one subject-that they wouldn't feel comfortable broaching with Ginny:

Meredith Oxley. Harry's girlfriend of almost three years. Here in Hastom for Ginny to finally lay eyes on, after all these years of studiously avoiding her.

A shocking realization suddenly occurred to her.

_He's been with her longer than he was with me. Even if you count my sixth year, which I do because when he was off with Ron and Hermione trying to kill Voldermort, he was still right dead center in my heart, no matter that he thought we were broken up. But now, he's been with…her…Meredith, for nearly three years. She's the one people think of when someone asks about the love of Harry Potter's life._

It was true. The past six months, every gossip rag that the Wizarding press had to offer featured stories about the imminent proposal Harry had planned for the lovely Ms. Oxley. Everything from the ring (a square cut diamond surrounded by rubies in honor of his mother's birthstone) to the wedding location (midnight on a small island in the Caspian Seas to ensure privacy) to intimate details about the happy couple's plans for the future (according to the second cousin of a mediwizard Harry had seen once for a sprained ankle last summer, they wanted two dogs, two canaries, and two boys to be named Dore and Dumble).

Never mind that Harry wouldn't want a dog because it would remind him too much of Sirius; or that he hated beaches because of the time when he was four and his cousin Dudley buried him in the sand up to his chin and refused to unbury him for almost two hours; or that his mother's birthstone was a garnet being that she born in January and not July. So what if the fact-checking at _Witch Weekly_ could use some oversight? The substance of the stories bore some truth: Harry had been with Meredith for close to three years. Surely, by now, a wedding (or at the very least, an engagement ring) was looming somewhere near the horizon.

"Ginny? Are you alright, luv? See, I told you we should've kept our mouths shut, Bart."

"Okay, you really need to work on your eyebrow communication, honey, because-"

"Guys, please," Ginny begged, setting her elbows on the bar and balancing her aching head in her hands. "You're giving me a headache."

Nell's sure hands started rubbing small circles on Ginny's back. "Are you okay?" she asked again quietly.

_No_, she thought.

She wanted nothing more than to simultaneously lapse into hysterical giggles, set her hair on fire, and collapse into a pool of salty, bitter tears while inhaling an entire pint of pistachio ice cream topped with salad cream. There was no reason ruling her emotions; no bit of logic she could latch onto to allow clarity to surface. Countless feelings swirled in her head, dizzying and confusing her with each spin, until finally Harry's face that night on his dock came into her mind, so tired and so crushed with the weight of just her presence in front of him.

Truly, what right did she have to be upset over Meredith's being here if the woman was a comfort to Harry?

_Don't begrudge him his happiness,_ she scolded herself, swallowing back her own tears and frustrations that the mere thought of seeing the woman who had given Harry that very happiness caused her. _He needs it more than you need to be a mad, jealous bint. _

Sniffling as quietly as she could, she pulled her hands away from her face, giving her eyes a quick wipe as she did, and faced her friends once more. "I'm fine," she lied easily, making her smile as convincing as possible. If they looks Bart and Nell gave her were any indication, her acting skills left much to be desired.

_Silly baby girl, playing Keep-Away with Mummy's hormones like that,_ she silently told her child._ You should be nicer, considering all the food and shelter I'm giving you._

"Really, I'm alright," she tried again. She reached over to a small bowl and popped a few crisps in her mouth. "I think it's great that she's…that Meredith's here. I'm sure that Harry's missed her very much. And you two, you're probably chummy with her as well. The four of you…you should all get together while she's here for the weekend. She is just here for the weekend, right? Oh, no matter." Ginny took a long sip of water, smiling with every tooth when she set the bottle down. "Anyways, I'll only be here for another week, she and I will never risk coming into contact again, and then life can get back to normal for you two and Harry."

"That is not what we want," Nell countered. "I'm not suggesting that you march down to the lake with a big bouquet of flowers for the girl, but when you do meet her, let Harry set the pace and tempo; let him decide how much to reveal. Heck, let him decide if you and Meredith should even meet to begin with. We," she pointed between Bart and herself, "don't need you and Harry to be best friends again. All we want is for you and Harry to find peace with each other. Neither of you realize how much you need it."

"It's true," Bart agreed, pointing his wand in the direction of a wizard across the room with his arm raised in the air. With the slightest flick from Bart's wand, Ginny saw the man's empty mug instantly refill with a frothy pint of ale. "I never thought there could be anyone in the world as stubborn as Harry and then I find you, Ms. Weasley, sitting at my kitchen table." He poked her lightly on the tip of her nose with his wand, eliciting a smaller, but far more genuine smile from her lips. "So now that you know the big secret, what do you say we take your mind off it with a movie?"

"I really don't think a movie is going to do much for my mind," Ginny said with an air of pessimism, mulling over Nell's words in her head.

"That's just because you don't know what movie I have in mind," Bart countered, taking his apron off. "Come with us down to the pasture, there's a huge movie screen set up for everyone to enjoy Movie Night, something I introduced the good people of Hastom to upon my arrival here. Klaus and Lara are handling the pub tonight. Let me just go change real quick and grab our dinner-before you ask, Ginny, yes there are pickles. Two whole jars, just for you. I'll be right back." Bart left the ladies alone to go back towards the kitchen area, waving away his Silencing Charm as he did, the pub coming back to life around them as Ginny brought up her thumb to her lips. Before she could begin gnawing on the fingernail, Nell tugged her hand down.

"Hey," she said, "don't fret over it. If you happen to meet her tonight or while she's here, then so be it. You smile politely, say 'nice to meet you', and chitchat about the weather and shoes for a few minutes before bidding _adieu_. Trust me, Meredith is not the type to make a big scene over things."

Ginny nodded, distracted by what she had just heard.

_What is she talking about, Meredith not making a big scene over things? I hurt the man she loves. I don't care how long ago it was, you don't settle that with a handshake and a hello. If I were her I'd…_

She wasn't Meredith, though, defending her mate in a primal fashion from an old foe.

Ginny would never have to defend Harry from anyone.

"Are you sure I should go?" Ginny asked, shoving some more crisps in her mouth, hoping the salty snack would squelch the knots in her stomach.

"Definitely. We'll have fun tonight, I promise. And if it makes you feel better, we might not even see Harry and Meredith down at the pasture. They don't really do a lot of town things when she's here."

"Really? Why not?"

Bart strode back over to them, wearing a clean flannel shirt with a picnic basket hanging off his elbow. "They usually like to spend most of their time at Harry's place alone just..." he blinked at Ginny's suddenly queasy face, catching himself quickly, "doing crossword puzzles. As well as other assorted brain teasers. Very cerebral pair, the two of them."

Ginny said nothing; just stuffed the remainder of the crisps in her mouth and chewed loudly.

"Let's go, shall we?" Nell suggested tactfully, standing up. "We want to get a good spot. Did you bring the quilt, Bart?"

"I'll Summon it when we get there."

"You can't Summon that from our house all the way to the pasture! That was my Gran's. What would she say if she found out I let you do that?"

"Hopefully nothing, seeing as she's been in the ground for twenty years. We'll conjure a blanket when we get there, okay?"

"Why conjure something when it's not the same as the real thing?" Nell countered, mulish even by Ginny's standards. "I'll Apparate home, grab the quilt and some pillows, and meet you two there. Deal?"

Bart shook his head at his wife. "I am the luckiest man alive," he deadpanned, leaning forward to peck his wife on the lips, "to call the craziest witch on the Earth my own."

"Damn straight you are," she smirked before giving him another smacking kiss. She turned back to Ginny. "See you down there?"

"Sure," Ginny agreed quietly, getting up and stretching her stiff muscles. A warm soak and an early turn in, frankly, sounded more appealing than seeing a movie (and maybe someone else) with her friends, but her time with them was dwindling down. She needed to enjoy every moment she had with them before reality smacked her rear end once more and she was back in London.

Nell walked over to the Apparition point by the front entrance, spinning soundly before vanishing in the air, leaving Ginny and Bart alone together for the first time. They smiled, each a little unsure of what to do or say without the buffer of Nell between them.

"Uh, can you Apparate or…" Bart asked, shifting the basket to his other arm.

"No, sorry," she apologized. "Doesn't agree with the baby."

"Oh, no worries. We'll just walk down together then. After you." He held his arm and Ginny walked in front of him until they were outside and side by side. They walked quietly, glancing around the village and occasionally at each other.

"So what are we watching tonight?" Ginny asked after a few moments.

"One of my personal favorites," Bart said with a grin, "a true modern classic: _Willow_. Lesser known, perhaps, than Lucas's _Star Wars_ trilogy, it's one of Ron Howard's crowning jewels and given that it was one of his first feature films, after _Splash_ and _Cocoon_, it holds up as…"

Ginny smiled and nodded as Bart threw out words like "daikini", "pecks", and something called a "madmartigan", whatever that was. Her thoughts shifted from the line-by-line re-enactment of the film her companion was giving her to other, more pressing matters.

_What if Harry is there tonight?_ She thought, folding her arms across her chest. _What do I do or say? What if Nell's wrong and it's not as simple between us as we all want it to be? On the other hand, if I see them together and happy, it could be…good? Maybe I do need to see for myself that he's moved on; maybe if I saw that, I could learn to let go of all this guilt and focus on being a friend to Harry again. _

_Maybe if I knew that she…_

"Bart?" she cut him off suddenly, taking his forearm and stopping them as they reached the outskirts of Hastom. The sky bled from orange to purple, the black of night approaching swiftly. "Can I ask you something?"

"I think so."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "With this answer, will you not invoke Switzerland? Just this one and only time? I promise I won't ask anything like this again. There's just something I need to know."

Bart looked down at the ground, studying it for a moment, creasing his brows in contemplation. "If I answer honestly, without the protection of Switzerland," he finally said, "it could hurt you. Is that something that you're okay with?"

"Yes."

He looked back up at her. "You're sure?" She nodded. "And my lovely wife…?" he implored.

"Will not be told of this solitary breach," she assured him.

"Okay then. What's your question?"

She bit down on her lip, steeling her heart as much as she could. "Does she love him? Meredith, I mean." It felt treasonous to ask, but Ginny had to know for sure. "She's good to him and not, in any way, using him for…for his name or-?"

"No, she's not," Bart assured, raising his hand. "It's…It's not anything like that. She really does love him. Meredith," he smiled at her sympathetically, "is a decent person. There are deceitful people and then there's her. Harry wasn't stupid; he knows who he is and what some people want from him. He did his homework on her before they started dating. She passed, and is still passing, with flying colors."

"And Harry…he loves her too?" she whispered, her breath catching in her chest.

Bart was silent for some time, his eyes pulled away from hers to a spot behind her. "Harry loves Meredith as much as he's able to love someone in that way," he answered softly, looking straight at her.

Ginny slowly pushed the air out of her lungs, her breath whooshing audibly in the night, the last of her childish, improbable hopes leaving her as well. She stood still, trying to reconcile what she had just heard.

_Well, that's it then. He's moved on and he's happy. Now maybe I can do the same._

There was freedom in knowing the truth. Terrifying, gut-wrenching freedom, but freedom none the less.

He loved someone else besides her. That was that.

Ignoring the twinges of pain that echoed from her heart to the rest of her body, she put on a smile and nodded at Bart, who stood tense and alert, trying to ready himself for whatever grief she would give him.

"Thank you," she simply said, continuing down the road. She motioned for Bart to follow her. She smiled at him when he caught up with her. "You're a good person, Bartholomew Nixon."

"You're welcome, but please don't ever call me Bartholomew again."

Ginny grinned fully. Now they were on a subject she could speak to him about with ease. "Not a fan of your full name I take it?"

"1.) No, I am not and 2.) Bartholomew is not my full name, though the error is understandable."

"So what is your full name then?" He groaned a little, shaking his head. Ginny nudged him playfully with her shoulder. "Come on, it can't be any worse than Ginevra." He mumbled some gibberish under his breath. "You might as well just spill it. I'll get it out of Nell before the evening's out."

"Bartowski," he mumbled, giving her a mock death glare. "Happy now?"

"Ouch," she winced in pity as they arrived at the massive clearing to the north of the village. Past the small fence that stretched for miles in each direction was an immense field of green, sloping slightly until it settled to a flat plain where a huge movie screen suspended itself in mid-air. Bright lanterns shining above mapped out a huge squared viewing area in front of the screen and a metal tower five or six stories high rose up at the base of the hill.

"Projection booth, where the film plays," Bart explained as he helped her down the hill. "Slightly modified, of course."

"I still can't believe your parents named you Bartowski," she said, glancing around for Nell amongst the witches and wizards who were getting settled in or the ones arriving by Apparition.

"It was my mother's maiden name. On the birth certificate, they accidently filled it in for my name and they never bothered to get it changed. Such is life."

"You poor thing," she cooed dramatically, barely keeping a reign over her laughter. He stopped them about midway between the screen and tower, setting the heavy basket down.

"What can I say?" He bent and reached into the basket, pulling out two bottles of water. "My parents hated me." He laughed a little when he said it, but stayed down low on the ground, avoiding Ginny's eyes.

All her mirth floated away at his words, leaving Ginny with a wave of confusion.

_What is he going on about? He wasn't serious, was he? How could his parents hate him? How could __**anyone**__ hate him?_

"Bart," she began, her fingertips grazing his shoulder. "What do you-?"

He straightened instantly, holding out a bottle of water for her, a crooked, playful grin on his face. There was something about the smile, though, that seemed almost… strained, something she never thought she'd describe a smile of Bart's as. He looked at her expectantly, the smile never moving an inch. She took the water and the hint that went with it, immediately changing the subject.

"What do you think is keeping Nell so long?" she asked, looking around the field again.

"Nothing important. She probably just got home and saw a dish that needed to be cleaned, which meant that the sink needed to be scrubbed afterward, which would lead to washing the counters, then the floor and so on and so on. As previously stated, she's crazy." Pulling a red checkered napkin out of the basket, he took out his wand and Transfigured it into a blanket roomy enough for six or seven people. They both sat down and he spread their meal out to eat. "She'll remember eventually in her cleaning frenzy that she's married to a wizard named Bart and friends with a witch named Ginny. Give her an hour or two to turn up."

"She sounds just like my Mum."

Bart nodded, taking stock of the crowd of two hundred or so around them.

"Show time," he said. He pointed his wand in the direction of the tower. "_Commenciate_," he whispered. A beam of light shot out from the booth and lit the screen black. The crowd hushed into silence. The lanterns around them dimmed to darkness and a swell of music burst forth from the unlit hanging boxes as the movie began to play on the screen. Bart put his wand down and leaned back on his elbows, grinning up at his handiwork.

"Magic just plain rocks," he stated and Ginny laughed, chomping down on a deliciously sour bite of pickle, her eyes on the screen.

She became so absorbed in the movie (especially in that precious little cherub, Elora) and the abundance of food for her to feast on that she almost jumped out of her skin when the crack of Apparition sounded behind her an hour or so later. She managed to hold back her scream by the skin of her teeth as she whirled around.

"Nell?" she whispered loudly, squinting up to try and make out her friend in the dark. "Please stop trying to scare me to death! That isn't good for the baby. You're a healer, you should know that!"

Nell didn't pay Ginny any mind; she merely lifted her wand and pointed it to the projection booth. The movie stopped instantly. A chorus of puzzled voices rang out from the crowd; Bart stood up beside his wife and used his wand to light the pasture once more. It was only with the harshness of the lights that Ginny saw her friend's red eyes and smudged make-up. She lifted herself to her feet, frightened, but before she could say a word, Nell walked up to stand in front of the screen, facing a bevy of questioning faces.

"It is with great sadness that I come here to inform you, my fellow citizens and friends," she began in a calm, booming voice that wavered only just, "that we have lost a respected and vital member of our community tonight."

Ginny gasped, immobile, and faintly felt Bart take one of her hands in his, squeezing it.

_Ha-Harry?_ She thought inexplicably.

"Emmarius Chornin died this evening," Nell continued, "in the home he lived in his entire life, warm and safe in his bed. He joins the rest of his family in the next life and he is survived here in this one by all who knew him. We will honor him Sunday evening in the square." She sniffed and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her nose. "Let us…let us return to our homes now and be thankful for the love we have in our lives. Thank you." She marched back over to Bart and Ginny, throwing herself into her husband's embrace. After a brief moment, she pulled Ginny into the hug as well

Ginny felt consumed by a wave of both joyful relief and clawing grief enveloped in Bart and Nell's arms, the sound of other people around her quietly crying and shuffling out of the pasture an ocean away. Her joy that her irrational fears for Harry's safety were proven false tempered as the sweet, wrinkled face of Mr. Chornin came into her mind. The intoxicating scent of an Arcus Violet materialized from her memory with it, so real it was like she was holding the flower up to her nose.

Her tears followed and didn't stop for some time.

_The baby was crying._

_Ginny could hear her, could almost feel the little girl's sobs in her bones, but she couldn't see her. Where was she?_

_The narrow, brightly lit hallway stretched out in front of her, endless to her eyes, with identical doors on either side pressed tightly together lining the walls._

"_Hello?" Ginny called out, her heart hammering. "Is anyone here?"_

_The baby's shrill cries were her only answer, echoing from every wall. With no plan, just a purpose, she turned to her left and turned the doorknob._

_Nothing._

_She tugged and pulled, but the stubborn doorknob wouldn't budge. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her right and tried that door. _

_Again, nothing._

_Her heart pounding, she went from door to door, growing more frantic and desperate at each one. She tried wandless magic to blast the doors apart; grasping at the edges to pull them off their hinges; even plowing her small frame into them to break through them. Each endeavor was as fruitless as the last._

_The only change was that, if possible, the baby wailed even louder._

"_HELP!" Ginny screamed, running down the hallway, not strong enough to hold in her own sobs. "SOMEBODY, ANYBODY! PLEASE HELP MY BABY!"_

_She had never known fear like this. Not when she had woken up covered in the blood of chickens as a schoolgirl; not when her ankle was shattered and Death Eaters closed in around her; not even when she saw Hagrid carrying Harry's limp body back from the Forbidden Forest. This was illogical and unbearable, hearing that tiny, frightened howl and knowing she could do nothing to help her child._

_What if she couldn't find the baby? What if her daughter…?_

"_No," she whimpered pitifully, her heart screaming._

_She stopped suddenly; every fiber of her body wrestled that dark thought from the world. Clarity and insurmountable strength coursed through her veins, fortifying her and clearing her mind. A powerful instinct known to centuries of women before her reared strong and true and she gave herself over to it fully._

_Letting herself be guided only by senses she had never known existed before, she ran down the hall until, without conscious thought, her feet pulled her to a stop in front of one door. The cries stopped abruptly. Grasping the knob, she wiped her tears away and took a deep breath as she turned her wrist. The knob twisted with it and she wrenched the door open._

_Bright flooded her vision, blinding her, but not deterring her from her course. She pushed forward until, blinking away the sharp glare until her eyes could make out her surroundings. _

_It was the village square of Hastom on the other side of the barrier, filled to capacity, but she paid no attention to any of the smiling faces. Her feet propelled her forward on the path the bodies of the citizens had made for her. Hands patted her back and words of encouragement were whispered in her ear; she neither felt nor heard a thing. _

_All she could comprehend was the tall, hand-carved wooden cradle at the end of the path. She ran towards it, faster than she ever had yet still slower than she could bear. At last, she was close enough to reach it. A hand grabbed her elbow and tugged gently._

_Ginny, out of breath, pulled her free hand back to attack, only to have Harry's face come into focus. He smiled at her, his eyes alight with love._

"_It's okay, Ginny," he reassured her, lifting a hand up to stroke her cheek. "The baby's just fine." Lowering her arm, she let Harry turn her back towards the cradle. When she was a step away, fear seized her once again and she squeezed her eyes shut._

"_What if I'm not good enough?" she asked Harry anxiously, uncaring if anyone else heard her. "What if I'm wrong and I can't do this alone? How can I-?"_

_Harry put his lips an inch away from her and whispered, "You're not alone anymore."_

_Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked down at her peacefully sleeping child, long red lashes fluttering delicately in time with an innocent dream and tiny hands no bigger than Galleons clenched into fists. Her own hands reached down to take the baby into her arms, knowing that peace would be holding this child against her heart, Harry beside them._

"_Iris," she breathed her daughter's name…_

The quiet knocking on the door woke her suddenly from a sleep she didn't realize she had fallen into. She peeled her swollen eyes open and shifted her rigid, sweaty body upright, the still-made bed groaning underneath her. The moonlight cast a dim glow in her dark room.

"He-Hello?" she managed to croak out, dazed and out of sorts. How long had she been asleep? Her mouth tasted like she had swallowed sandpaper, the skin of her belly ached from sleeping with her shorts buttoned, and for some reason, her hands felt empty, like they thought they were supposed to be holding something. She opened and closed them, trying to ease the strange sensation.

There was another faint knock from the other side of the door. "Ginny?" Harry whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she answered slowly, shocked he was here. He hadn't once instigated contact between them in Hastom. She pushed her messy hair out of her eyes and stared at the door intently as if she could see through it to see him. Vaguely, she heard the recording of the baby's heartbeat in the background and she groped the bedside table for her wand.

"_Desino_," she whispered and the heartbeat faded into nothingness. "_Lumostia_." The candles in the room lit themselves, bathing the room in light. A quick glance at the clock showed her it was a little after eleven o'clock.

A pause. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, um, sure," she said, pushing off the bed and walking to the door on stiff legs. Pulling it open a bit, she took in his appearance-hair mussed to perfection and a light jacket thrown over a shirt and jeans-before stepping back with the door to let him enter.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said with his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes drifting around the room. She sat down at the foot of the bed.

"That's alright. I didn't even know I was sleeping, if that makes any sense. Actually, I'm not even sure how I got here. The last thing I remember is…"

"Walking away from the pasture with Nell and Bart," Harry finished.

Ginny blinked at him. "How did you know that?"

"She Flooed a little a while ago, to make sure I had heard about Mr. Chornin and told me they brought you back here to the inn after the announcement." Ginny looked down at the mention of his name. "She, uh, said you were quite upset and I just wanted to check on you. Make sure that you were okay." He sat down beside her on the bed, keeping a healthy amount of space between them. "Are you okay?"

"I suppose," she shrugged half-heartedly. She glanced at him. "He wasn't at his spot today, near the other vendors. Mr. Chornin, I mean. I noticed when I walked by on my way to the Falcon this evening and I was going to say something to Nell, maybe have her go check on him, but I…I got distracted and I didn't…" She rubbed tiredly at her eyes; they were incapable of producing anymore tears, no matter how strong their desire to.

"From how Nell explained it, he died in his sleep in the early afternoon. He was already gone by the time you were on your way to meet Nell and Bart. There was nothing to be done. And there's nothing to be done now by feeling guilty over something you had no fault in."

"He put me at ease about this place," she told Harry, looking up at him. "I grew up hearing stories about how horrifying Hastom was and once I get here, one of the first things someone does for me is give me a priceless flower." She cast a glance behind her at the bureau, where the Arcus Violet sat in a small glass vase. "He was kind to me without having any reason to be. I don't think I'll ever forget that."

The silence closed in around them. Finally, Harry stood up slowly.

"I should let you get back to sleep." He cleared his throat. "I have to, uh, get home anyways."

"To Meredith?" Ginny asked icily, still staring at her flower. She didn't give Harry a chance to reply. "I'm sorry," she apologized, looking at him as a flash of guilt blinked out of his eyes. "That came out wrong."

"No," he sighed in defeat. "I should have been the one to tell you she was coming here. I shouldn't have left it to Nell and Bart to let you know about it."

"Why didn't you?"

"Is it that difficult to understand? Ginny, I don't know how this is supposed to work and I-"

"Do you want to be friends, Harry? Or would you rather just count down the days until I leave here and we can go back to ignoring each other?" Her exhaustion lowered her inhibitions and the words spilled out of her mouth with no resistance. He gaped at her trying to form a response, but she wouldn't let him. "Because that's not what I want. I know it won't be easy, but I want us to be in each other's lives again.

"I want to work past this…this awkwardness between us; I want us to be able to talk and tell stories about Ron being a fourth year when he slept with his Krum doll from the World Cup and make fun of Bart's ludicrous accent together." She laughed wearily. Harry smiled, albeit tightly, at that and she took it as a sign to stand up and continue. "I want…I want to design Quidditch plays with you that would never, ever work in a real match for no other reason but that it's fun; I want to buy you a completely barmy Christmas present, like a yellow polka-dotted kilt, just to take the mickey out of you when you try it on, while you give me the most frilly hair ribbons in existence so you can do the same to me; I want you to come by my house here after a bad day at work to let off-" Harry's eyes narrowed sharply and she stopped, breathing heavily. "What?" He shook his head, clearly taken aback by something that had managed to slip out of her mouth; she hadn't even been paying attention to what she said. "What did I say?"

"You said you wanted a house here," he replied woodenly, stepping back, blinking at her. She played back her own words in her head, her heart hammering. "You want to live in Hastom."

"Yes," she murmured to the door behind Harry, as struck dumb by the idea as he was.

It had never occurred to her that she would have the opportunity to stay in Hastom longer than her allotted time. Only citizens lived here and citizens were either born here or chosen...

_If a citizen dies and has no other living relatives left born in Hastom to maintain citizenship in their family line_, Luna's voice answered her, explaining Hastom to a gob smacked Ginny only a few weeks ago.

Kind Mr. Chornin had died with no living relatives; Nell had said as much when she announced his death.

Was it possible a door closing had allowed another one to open?

Ginny straightened her shoulders and looked Harry dead in the eye.

"I don't want to leave at the end of July," she said determinedly, energized with her resolve. "I want to be a citizen."

Her statement hung between them like a guillotine. Harry's only response to it was to stare at her, freezing her motionless while he pondered her sudden decision until he came to one of his own. Abruptly, he turned on his heel for the door.

"Harry, wait!" she cried out quietly, latching onto his elbow and tugging him backward. He didn't turn to face her; however, he didn't try to leave either. The seconds ticked by slowly, but Ginny was at a loss for words. How could she make him understand why she had to stay?

"I listen to the baby's heartbeat every night," she blurted out, wishing she could snatch it back from her lips at once. Harry had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the baby; mentioning her daughter was not a way to win her cause. "What I mean…I….I…" Her shoulders deflated once more and the slight pressure of tears began building behind her eyes again.

_Open the door, Ginevra. He needs to hear this._

"My baby is only going to have a mother," she tried again gently. "Not a dad and a mum, just a mum. That means I have to work twice as hard to give my child a good life. I need strength to do that and Harry, I can't remember the last time I felt stronger than since I've been here. I don't know if that matters to you or not anymore-"

"You have family outside of here," he said beseechingly, turning to face her. "Parents and siblings who would give you the clothes off their backs to help you provide for…for your baby. Why can't you just go back to them?"

"Because I created her," Ginny proclaimed, pressing her hands to her stomach. Strange how much firmer it felt than even a week ago. "Not my parents or my brothers. She's **my** responsibility. What will I tell her if she asks me someday why we lived at the Burrow for the first three or four years of her life? We stayed with Grandmum and Granddad while Mummy got her own life straightened out because she couldn't do it by herself? She needs me strong." Ginny took a tiny step closer to him. "You didn't answer me before, when I asked you if you still wanted to be friends with me. Do you?"

He sighed deeply, his eyes softening a bit. "It's just…It's so hard to be around you," he admitted. "I never thought it would be. I keep waiting for it to get just a little easier, but it never does."

"Friends, Harry. Yes or no?" she whispered, knowing deep down her world would shift one way or another depending on his answer.

"I don't know," he said apologetically.

"Well," Ginny said doggedly, swallowing past the lump of pain in her throat, "I can tell you that I do. I think friendship is right for us. Before…before anything happened with us my fifth year, I loved having that time with you to talk about Quidditch and Ron's eating habits and what would happen after we left school. That was wonderful for me and I want us to have something like that again. And if there is even a fragment of a part of you that wants that as well, then I need to try and stay in Hastom. Because if I go back to London, we have no chance of finding out if it can be easy again. We'll let ourselves get caught up in our own lives and before we know it, another three or thirty years will have gone by without a word between us.

"Please," she begged him, her hand itching to reach out for his, "please support me in staying here."

Closing his eyes, he turned back to the door. "Goodnight, Ginny," he said as he walked out slowly.

There was no more sleep for her that night. She lay in the bed, tossing and turning for hours after Harry left. The morning sun finally caught up with her and she heaved her body out of the bed, stumbling into the shower to freshen up. The warm water beat down on her, washing away the grime of yesterday, but not the uncertainty and the crushing sense of guilt.

If she stayed, she would hurt Harry. If she left, she would hurt herself and her daughter.

There wasn't a choice, not really, but just because the decision was easy didn't mean that her guts didn't clench in pain or that her heart didn't lurch whenever she thought of his face.

Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself carefully, letting the soft fabric of the towel linger on her belly as thoughts of the baby flooded her mind, easing her torn psyche.

_Think of her. That'll get you through this in one piece. Just think of Iris._

"Iris?" she said out loud through a deep yawn, knotting the towel around her. "Where did that come from?" She hadn't thought of any names yet, still too disorientated from the upheaval of her life to think that far ahead. Rolling it around in her mind, she smiled a little as a vision of a little girl with long red hair, giggling with her eyes shut and running around in a field of purple flowers, became clear. The name seemed a bit old-fashioned; yet it fit the graceful little girl in her imagination.

She patted her belly again, smiling wider. "Iris."

With that settled, she dressed for the day, combing out her hair to hang straight down her back and putting on the nicest outfit Luna had packed for her. Deciding to make an early start of it, she tiptoed out of her room and down the steps, surprised that she seemed to have woken before even Mrs. Nettles. Sneaking an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen, she walked through the lobby outside to greet the day.

_I suppose I'll give Nell and Bart an hour or two to wake up before I head over. Hopefully, they won't think me completely mental and they'll help me. I wonder how long it takes to get-_

"Good morning."

The voice stopped her thoughts and her body. She didn't dare turn around to see what her sleep-deprived mind had conjured out of thin air. Because if she turned, that's all she'd see is thin air. Not the person that voice belonged to. He would be at home, wrapped in his bed, nestled up against his-

"It's customary in most cultures to reply in kind when someone addresses you," Harry said. She turned to find him there-actually there-sitting alone on a bench across from the inn.

"Good morning," she said, stunned. What on Earth was he doing here? His clothes were different but he wore the same red-eyed haggard look she knew she herself was sporting. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," he said, peeling his body off the bench with some effort, "but then again, I don't need much to begin with." He walked up to stand next to her. "I thought a lot about what you said last night and…it got me thinking about me when I came here. Truthfully, I was a lot like you. I needed someplace where I felt right again. Hastom gave that to me; who am I to stand in the way of it being that place for someone else. Especially someone," Harry looked down at his feet, scratching his right shoe against the other, "someone that I want to be friends with."

Someone could have walked by, thrown a bag with a million Galleons at her feet, and she wouldn't have batted an eye. "I don't understand," she said, studying him for some sense of hesitation or lie. "Hours ago, you said you thought this was too hard and now…?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "What happened was that I remembered something a wise and complicated wizard once said to me. To both of us, actually."

"And that was?"

"That there's a difference between what is easy and what is right. This," he waved a hand between their bodies, "is not going to be easy, but like you said, it is right." He hesitated, frowning a little. "I…I don't trust you. Not completely, not yet. I can't. Not after what you did to me. I don't doubt your intention was trying to protect me, but the Muggles have a saying about good intentions and where the road they're paved with leads to. There's no treatment for rebuilding trust except time spent together. The only way we can do that is by both living here, so you have my support in pursuing citizenship."

"Thank you." She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms, but she tamped that instinct down. In this case, it was probably best to walk before trying to run a marathon.

"So," Harry said, "if you want to petition for citizenship, you need to speak with Sapien Stellner first. Bart said you've already met him, so we'll just head over there and talk to him."

"Isn't it a bit early?"

"Don't worry, he'll be up." She followed Harry as he set a leisurely path down the street. "I should warn you, it does take a little getting used to living here. It did for me at least. You actually might have an easier time of it, growing up at the Burrow and all."

"What do you mean?"

"The thing that you'll figure out about Hastom," Harry told her, "is that when you're a citizen here, you're not alone anymore."

"Oh," she said, rubbing her forehead, trying to understand why hearing him say that gave her the oddest feeling of déjà vu.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Here we go, round nine! Thanks go, as always, to my betas who praise me when I've earned it and push me when I need it. I couldn't write this without them. Please don't be afraid to tell me if you do (or don't) enjoy. Happy reading! **

Tiptoeing quietly into Sapien Stellner's vast greenhouse with Harry after a long walk peppered with stiff small talk, Ginny could only form one thought as she stepped down a pair of rickety stairs to the worn tiled path in the middle of the grassy floor:

Neville Longbottom would gladly hand over every Galleon he had just to step inside.

The glass structure was more than twice the size of the modest home it sat behind. Thick, coiling vines curled around every crevice and flat surface of the building, sparing only the gabled roof and patches on the walls, which allowed the morning sunlight to filter in softly. There was distinctively bright yet harmonious flora in every corner of the room: from the towering, regal spruces with a pear-shaped purple fruit hanging between the pine needles that slimmed and fattened as if they were breathing; to the feathery orange shrubs that grew a marvelous snow white flower, with a thick substance-that smelled to Ginny of cinnamon-leaking from each long petal; to the spidery strands of dew grass that sat by a tiny pond, all joining together on a silent cue to curl their top tips into the water and splashing tiny drops of water at hers and Harry's feet as they passed. Even the insects showed themselves to be beyond remarkable, as the butterflies hummed a classical waltz into Ginny's ears with their wings as they fluttered delicately around her.

She turned back to Harry with wide eyes. "This is incredible!" she whispered, her mind trying to keep pace with what her eyes saw. Hastom never ceased to amaze her.

"Yeah," Harry agreed easily. "Not too shabby, is it?" He looked around the room, not in wonder, but with a purpose. His eyes settled on the far left corner and he pointed to it. "There he is." Ginny saw the older man hunched over a table, surrounded by a collection of potted plants.

"How do I ask him?" she asked Harry, suddenly nervous about approaching the charismatic but still daunting head of the town council.

Harry only shrugged. "You're the one that wants citizenship. You don't need me to hold your hand for this, Gin."

Irritated (and yet gratified that he was using a nickname with her again after so long), Ginny walked forward until she was standing a few feet behind Sapien. Clearing her throat, she said, "Mr. Stellner?" He turned to face her, his golden eyes penetrating her. "I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but may I have a moment of your time today? I'd like to ask you about-"

"Obtaining citizenship in Hastom," he finished, smoothing the creases of his black robes.

"Ye-yes," she said, taken aback.

_Maybe he wasn't lying at the feast_, she thought apprehensively. _Maybe he really does know everything_.

The older man simply smiled, although it did not fully reach his eyes. "I have been told, over these past few weeks, how taken with our village you have become, Ms. Weasley. One does not need the sight of a Seer to know that you would wish to remain here. Even though I do possess such the sight, and something more." Ginny was floored.

_I knew it! There was something…more about him. Something beyond even magic!_

As she looked at him in a new light, Sapien looked behind her, casually acknowledging Harry. "Good day to you, Citizen Potter."

"Good day, sir. How are you this morning?"

"My heart is at peace, as it always is when I am here, surrounded by this beauty." Taking his wand from his robes, he waved it; two wicker chairs that matched his emerged. Harry and Ginny sat down across from him as he continued. "However, my heart is also saddened by the loss of my friend and my kin. Curious, is it not? The depth with which we feel so many different emotions all at once."

"Your kin?" Ginny asked. "Mr. Chornin was…he was your family?" She shot a quick look at Harry, but he merely shook his head, his eyes saying her own surprise was his as well.

Sapien produced a small serving table in between the three of them, complete with a tea set. "Yes, Emmarius was family," he replied, pouring the steaming tea by hand. "I have others scattered throughout Hastom and beyond, but I was the last of Emmarius's family. He has no more blood kin left. He was born here and he married later in life to as fine a young woman that there ever was created. They had a daughter, Winifred, a beautiful child, but when his wife was giving birth to their son, her labor was too much for her body to bear and she lost her own life. The boy was born ill and died a few days later. Emmarius would have followed them both to the next life if not for Winifred.

"He was devoted to her fully. He was not a man of material means, but rich beyond imagination in love, which he showered upon his daughter. She adored him as well, following in his footsteps as a horticulturist, but keeping very close to home. Indeed, there were some in the village that thought there would never be a man who could win the heart of Winifred Chornin." Sapien smiled softly into his teacup. "I courted her every day for years, starting when I was only ten years old. My heart knew even then that there would never be another for me. She rebuffed me, kindly of course, and rebuffed me still until we were both about eighteen years old."

"What changed?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly.

Sapien turned, looking behind him. Ginny craned her neck to see him staring at a tall, narrow hedge, thin at the top and rounding exponentially until its base looked nearly sifxfeet wide. Roses the color of ripe peaches peaked out of the shrub. "Emmarius showed me the way to the heart of his one true heart," he continued. "He saw how deeply I cared for her. One day, after Winifred's customary refusal of my affections, he came to find me wallowing into a glass of Firewhiskey and led me to the garden he kept in his home. There, he showed me all of the secrets he had learned from years of patiently nursing seed from soil. These lessons were almost every day, lasting hours at a time. Eventually, Winifred began to join us and soon after that, it was just her and me, falling in love with dirt caked under our fingernails and sunburns on the back of our necks. It was bliss. We married in that garden, under a canopy of those." He pointed to the flowers. "Fredina Roses. Emmarius named them after her. They were her favorite."

"They're beautiful," Ginny said.

"Yes, they are," Sapien agreed. "Almost as beautiful as she was." His smile faded to a whisper. "I lost her too soon. She collapsed one day when she was weeding the garden a few days before our second anniversary. Something called a blood clot that traveled to her brain. Healer Thewes, Healer Nixon's late father, told me she did not suffer, for which I am grateful. It was ages, though, until I could bring myself to come out here, to even look at a flower again. And as he did before, Emmarius was the one who helped me find my way back to myself. We would work out here and laugh or cry or beat our fists into the ground until we bled; whatever we needed to do that particular day to make our grief manageable. After a time, the good days started to outweigh the bad ones. I do not think I would have survived losing Winifred if not for Emmarius Chornin. A small part of me can only hope that the same was true for him regarding me."

"If I may, when will his funeral be?" Ginny asked. She caught a glimpse of Harry quietly shaking his head, but paid him no mind. "I'd like to be able to attend, if that's alright."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Ms. Weasley," Sapien said kindly, "but that will not be possible. It says nothing of my opinion of you, I promise. In Hastom, burial is handled by the family and the family alone. Tomorrow, we will hold a brief ceremony of remembrance in the square. We are a community closer than most; however family is still the most important bond in this world and we do our best to honor that idea."

"I understand," she replied. There was so much to learn about living in Hastom. Maybe one lifetime wouldn't be enough to learn all the ins and outs of this place. She couldn't help thinking about how much she'd like to try though. "Please do accept my condolences on your loss."

"Mine as well," Harry chimed in solemnly.

"Thank you. He is with the ones he loves most now and I take comfort in that. For me, there will never be a more honorable person to have walked this Earth than him." He studied Ginny carefully. "And now you, Ms. Weasley, seek his place as citizen in our community. It is a lofty position to fill."

"Yes," she agreed, suddenly feeling so small under his scrutiny.

"Do you feel that you are capable of meeting the standards we require all citizens of Hastom to uphold?"

Ginny looked down in thought. "I don't know," she finally answered, "but I want to be given the chance to prove that I can, both to you and myself."

Sapien's only reply was another sip of tea. "And you, Citizen Potter? Do you think that this young woman is what we desire in a citizen of Hastom?" Ginny glanced at him through the corner of her eye, eager (yet afraid) to hear his response.

"What I think," Harry said, staring right at Sapien, "is that everyone deserves the opportunity to find their place in the world. Ginny obviously feels that her place is here; we are obliged to let her voice on the matter be heard."

"And the stipulations that come with her citizenship?" Sapien asked, raising an eyebrow. "They would not prove troublesome for you?"

Ginny felt a little lost. Stipulations? What was he talking about? And how would they impact Harry in any way?

Harry frowned, studying his shoelaces. "I'm prepared to honor my obligations as a citizen of Hastom, if need be." He caught Ginny's questioning eye for a fraction of a second before looking to Sapien. "Let's put her application for citizenship to a town vote and see what they decide."

"Very well," Sapien nodded, rising to his feet. Harry and Ginny followed suit. "We will convene the Council and the village this evening in the Meeting Hall. Ms. Weasley, please be prepared at seven this evening to present your petition to the townspeople and the Council, as well as to answer any questions we may have for you."

"What kind of questions are you talking about?"

Sapien thought for a moment. "There will be questions about you, of course: your family, career, education. We wish to know you and see what you may offer to our village. However, given the nature of your history with one of our citizens," Sapien looked carefully at Harry, "I think it is safe to assume that your past will play a part in our discussion this evening."

Ginny flushed, awash with anger. "My past has nothing to do with-"

"Your past has led you here, to us. In that regard, we have a right to question how you found us," Sapien interrupted, his voice never rising. "Your past has also had a great impact on a citizen. A citizen that has come to mean a great deal to us. We stand by one another here; protect each other as much as we can." He frowned slightly. "The people of our village are by and large fair and accepting, but we are not perfect. There are some here that feel a sense of righteousness at being a part of our community. It makes them hesitant, sometimes, to allow outsiders in. Citizens will be allowed to ask questions of you and I cannot guarantee that they will not be…invasive, to a degree. We on the Council will try to control that as best we can and you are free to abstain from answering. However, that may paint you as mistrustful and when you lose the trust of these citizens, it can be nearly impossible to regain. The choice to make is your own, what you can live with. I think you will make the right one." He gave her a long wink. "Now, if you will please excuse me, I have to make arrangements for Emmarius's service." He bowed his head in goodbye. "May the day bring you peace." He glided past them, his robes billowing behind him.

The pair stood in the magnificent greenhouse for a moment in silence. However, Ginny's voice rang loud in her own mind.

_How dare he?_ She thought bitterly, biting her cheek to keep from running after Sapien and giving him a piece of her mind. _He expects me to go up in front of a bunch of people, most of whom I don't even know, and tell my life story? That's bordering on barbaric! Do they think they're better than me, that they have a right to judge a life lived by none of them? I swear, I-_

"It's worth it, you know." Ginny turned to Harry in surprise, wondering if she had actually been ranting out loud. He smiled a little, gingerly putting his warm hand on her back to propel her out of the greenhouse, making her skin tingle through her shirt. He lowered his hand and didn't speak again until they had left Sapien's property to walk slowly down the street. Hastom was waking up around them. "I saw your face in there and knew what you were thinking. It was what I thought when they told me what I'd have to do to stay: they've never walked in my shoes; who are they to decide if the choices I made are right or wrong?"

"Good, it wasn't just me then."

"No, you're not crazy. The important thing to remember is that they don't do this to embarrass or demean you in any way. They're just trying to preserve the integrity of this place. Just the idea of it, of the safety and freedom it provides, that's more important than one person's discomfort."

"I suppose," Ginny mumbled, her anger ebbing. Harry's mention of discomfort prodded another thought forward. "What was Sapien talking about before, about my stipulations proving troublesome for you?" Harry said nothing, only shoved his hands in his pockets and pretended not to hear her. Having none of it, she took his elbow and turned him towards her. "Hey. We're trying to be friends, remember? Friends answer questions when they're asked."

Harry sighed before falling quiet again. She half wondered if he'd rather be faced with a thousand Dementors than answer when he finally did. "When someone from the outside is approved for a trial citizenship," he explained, "they have to remain in Hastom for six months, never leaving except for a family or medical emergency."

"I know. Luna mentioned something about that."

"Did she happen to mention anything about the living arrangements during trial citizenship?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, trying to see where he was going with this. "No," she said slowly. "I don't understand…"

They had stopped walking, facing each other in the middle of the street. "If the Council approves you tonight, to help you acclimate to life here, you'll spend the next six months living with the person who last became a citizen before you," Harry finished, staring at her long past the point of comfort.

It took a bit of time for her exhausted mind to make the picture clear. Her eyes widened when it did. "You mean…?" she whispered, shaking her head.

"If you get to stay here, you and I will be roommates for a while."

_IS HE BARKING MAD!_

"Are you barking mad?" she said, her breath caught in her chest. She turned away from him, running her hands wildly through her hair and walking without sight. Dimly, she felt him catch up to her after a dozen or so steps. It was one thing to want Harry back in her life, but it was another thing entirely to have to share a home with him. Bloody hell! She'd have to share a **loo** with him! "You can't…they can't…there is no possible way…" The only thought she could actually manage to finish, she couldn't voice out loud.

_You have a girlfriend! You can't have your pregnant, possibly deranged, and definitely destitute ex move in with you! No woman in the world would accept her boyfriend doing that, I don't care how much she hates "making big scenes" over things! This would at least call for a marginally averaged size scene to be made!_

"Listen," she heard Harry say over her musings, "it's nonnegotiable for both of us: you have no choice if you want to become a citizen and it's my obligation as a citizento board you for your trial. This has been their law since long before you and I were even born. There's no getting around it, so freaking out over something that can't be changed won't do either of us any good. Okay?"

"Right," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger to try to stem the migraine her lack of sleep and this…this development was causing. There had been a point in time when her life had been predictable. It hadn't always been pleasant, but at least she didn't feel like her feet were being pulled out from under her at every turn.

"And it's not like we have to worry about it right now. It's only a factor if you're actually approved, which…" He stopped, trailing off.

"Is a long-shot at best," Ginny concluded sullenly, her shoulders slumping. She looked at Harry, hoping her would correct her. He just shrugged, giving her honesty instead.

"It all depends on what gets asked and how you answer. If they sense you're lying or holding back about anything, they won't accept you. But even if you do answer truthfully, they might not like the answer they get. They're people and unpredictability is part of our internal fabric, in my opinion anyways. The only thing you can do is tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may. You might not like the result, but you'll have done everything in your power to stay. That's all we can do sometimes." She nodded in agreement.

They found themselves standing in front of the Green Swallow again, store windows opening for the morning and early shoppers milling about the street. "Thank you, Harry," she told him. "I know there might be a part of you that thinks it would be better if I just left…" He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. "And yet you still went out of your way to help me see if I can make this place my home. No matter what happens tonight, it means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," he replied, cracking a small smile, the morning sun behind him glinting across his strong, whiskered jaw and making his eyes shine brighter than any jewel. Her knees trembled slightly and her stomach clenched.

_Hunger. Just hunger_, she tried to convince herself. _You are growing a life inside of you and you require nourishment. That's all it is, understand? Hunger. For food._

"Are you hungry for food?" she threw out, wincing as her voice squeaked. Clearing her throat, she tried again, "I mean would you like to come in for breakfast? I'm sure Mrs. Nettles wouldn't mind an extra place."

"Actually, I think she would," Harry said, smirking a little. Blood rushed all over her body and Ginny mentally cursed her blasted…hunger as she leaned back against the wall of the inn. "That woman can make Mr. Filch look lenient when it comes to certain things," he continued. "Thank you, but I can't. I…have plans this morning." His smile became a little strained. "Meredith is cooking. She-she likes to cook when she's here. Which is good because I'm not a fan of it."

"Well, if I had to spend parts of my childhood cooking for your cousin, I think I'd hate cooking too," Ginny tried to joke, her blood cooling to ice at the mention of Meredith's name. Harry didn't laugh, only nodded, backing away from her as he did. She clasped her hands behind her back so she didn't do something stupid, like reach out for his hand.

"I'll see you tonight," he said. "Good luck." He turned away from her.

"And good luck to you as well!" she said merrily, the words flying out. Harry stopped and turned back, confused. "In getting home, I mean," she stumbled, wishing she could melt back into the building. "I wish you luck in not injuring yourself as you go home. That is what I meant to say."

Harry nodded warily. "How about just 'goodbye' then?"

"Yes," she agreed, her face burning. "Goodbye then."

"Maybe you should try and get some rest before tonight," he suggested before walking to the Apparition point on the corner, vanishing from her sight.

Ginny looked down at her stomach. "Maybe you," she addressed her baby irritably, "should try stealing Mummy's fat cells instead of her brain cells. I think that would work out much better for us both, don't you agree?"

"Are you sure I look alright?" Ginny asked Nell again, fiddling with the hem of the light beige cardigan she wore over one of Nell's long black dresses, magically altered to fit Ginny's growing frame. Everything she had brought with her was much lighter and airier; Ginny wanted her appearance at the meeting to show how serious she was about remaining in Hastom.

"You look lovely," Nell assured her, squeezing her knee supportively.

They sat next to one another in the Meeting Hall, packed to the brim with the majority of Hastom's citizens. The walls were a rich blue, with the village crest displayed prominently against the wall opposite the entrance, the heavy wood doors held wide open as people continued to stream in. Wooden benches lined all of the walls, spilling forward to the heart of the room until they were stopped by a square of waist-high railings; there were four chairs in the square, one for each corner. The balconies above were also lined with similar seats, only raised, like in a Quidditch stadium, and three or four rows deep. The benches all sat right next to each other so people had to climb over one another to get a seat, squished together as if they were in a sausage casing. It left little room for space, but Ginny thought that perhaps that was the intention. No one deserved a better seat than anyone else as everyone was equal here. A brass candelabrum hung from the arched ceiling, lighting the windowless room brightly, assisted by the small votive candles along the walls.

"You nervous?" Bart asked from her other side, speaking right into her ear over the noise around them. Both he and Nell had been wonderful when she told them of her plan, neither the least bit surprised that she was trying to stay. Nell had offered a constant stream of support and encouragement throughout the endless day. Bart had been quieter, more pragmatic about the whole situation. He explained the particulars of the event, but only once told her that he believed in her in a moment alone, a few moments before they had left from Bart and Nell's home. Knowing that he himself had gone through this process not long ago, she appreciated the faith he had in her and Hastom, almost even more than his wife's optimism.

Ginny didn't speak, only nodded in reply. She caught a glance of the watch on his wrist.

6:53pm.

Her judgment was almost upon her.

_It's not a judgment_, she tried to convince herself. Wrestling her fingers against themselves, she fought to keep her head clear. _They just want to get to know you; to know if you belong among them; to know if you're…alright fine, they're judging you, but you're just going to have to keep your chin up and deal with it. Your daughter's future will be decided by what goes on here tonight. That's more important than feeling righteous. _

She breathed deeply, trying to ease her nerves and block out everything else in the room. "Iris," she mumbled quietly.

Nell turned to face her. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. She took another look around the room to try and distract herself, unable to stop the adrenaline from her anxiousness bubbling up in her stomach.

"He'll be here, you know," Nell assured her.

"Who?"

"Harry," Bart said. Ginny blushed, not realizing that she had been searching for his face until her friends made their assumption. "He has to be. All citizens of age are required to attend petitions like this. Remember? We went over this."

She smiled nervously at him. "Is it going to be as bad as I'm building it up in my head to be?"

He threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a brotherly hug. "Would you prefer a lie or the truth?"

"Oh bollocks," she groaned into his smartly pressed linen shirt. She felt Nell's hand rubbing her back supportively.

"Hey," Bart said, gently propping her up to look at her. "It's going to suck. Monumentally. You will never feel more naked or exposed than you do up standing in that square. Once you're up there, just for even the chance for it to be over with, you will gladly take a Stunner right to the…well, whatever the girl equivalent for bollocks is. Ow!" Nell smacked him upside the head for his crudeness. Ginny giggled despite herself. Rubbing his skull, he said, "However, despite all that…" He grinned crookedly.

"It's worth it," Ginny echoed the mantra she had had running through her head all day.

"Very much so." Bart offered Nell a loving smile, which melted the scowl from her face.

"It's worth it," Ginny repeated to herself with a sigh. The second the words left her lips, the doors of the Meeting Hall creaked closed. The candles glowed brighter and all conversation stopped.

A side door in the front of the room opened; four tall figures-two men and two women-entered, all dressed in robes the same shade of blue as the walls, emblazoned with the town crest. They smiled benignly and nodded hello to others as they wiggled through the mass of bodies, stopping occasionally for a handshake or a quick hug. Ginny recognized the last person in line as Sapien, looming more than a head above his companions, his face older and wiser than any of theirs. They made their way slowly through the crowd until they reached the square in the center. Pulling her wand out, the first woman tapped the edge; a gate materialized and the four entered the square. Sapien stood as the other three sat down. He addressed the crowd from his corner, turning slowly and speaking loudly to ensure he was heard by all.

"My fellow citizens," he began, "before we commence with the proceedings, I would like us all to take the time together to offer a moment of silence for the wizard who, unintentionally of course, helped bring about the petition we will hear. Please bow your heads and call forth your fondest memory of Emmarius Chornin."

Closing her eyes, the nearly toothless grin of the old man her first day in Hastom instantly came to Ginny's mind, an invaluable flower held out for her. Knowing what she now knew of his past, she found it incredible that with all he had been through in his life, all that he had lost, he was capable of finding happiness in the world. He hadn't taken her money that day; she wondered if she was special in the regard. She felt a deep pang of guilt. Had she made it clear to him how much that one flower had meant to her? How it shocked nearly all of her juvenile, pathetic notions about his home out of her system? How it helped ease the invisible burden her life had become just a little? How he had he helped her truly start to embrace Hastom as her home, even before she realized it?

How could a few coins, scattered here and there, help make a person understand that he had contributed to saving her?

"Thank you," she whispered; hoping wherever Mr. Chornin was, he could hear her. It was all she could give him now. Somehow she knew, even if he was still alive, he wouldn't have taken anything more from her.

"Thank you," she heard Sapien say to the room at large. She slowly opened her eyes, every muscle in her body tightening in anticipation. "I know that most of you know why we are meeting tonight. For those of you who do not, we are here tonight to hear a petition for citizenship set forth by Ms. Ginevra Weasley," he said, gesturing to her. Every head in the room landed on her. "We will allow the petitioner to now step forward and make her case surrounded by myself and my fellow Council members, after which all those who wish to question her may. I remind you all to show respect and tact with your questions, maintaining the rules of etiquette for this public forum. After all of the queries have been made, we will ask Ms. Weasley to leave the hall and wait outside, as the Council votes whether or not to accept her on a six-month trial basis. If she is accepted, at the end of her six months, the village as a whole will vote on her permanent status of citizenship." Sapien moved to stand in front of her. She focused all her energies on breathing steadily as he placed the tip of his wand, a gate swinging open. "Please step forward, Ms. Weasley."

_Iris_, she thought, lowering her eyes and forcing her legs to stand slowly and walk_. Making a home for the two of us. Giving her a happy, safe childhood where darkness will never touch her. Showing my family that I'm strong enough to make a life on my own, without anyone else footing the bill. Discovering the secrets of this place. Seeing Bart and Nell every day. Seeing…Seeing Harry every day._

Before she was ready to be, she was standing alone in that small square, with four stern strangers for company, the eyes of Hastom gazing at her, the entire room blanketed in silence. Every fiber of every nerve in her body screamed at her in protest, making her head spin and her limbs grow almost numb. Trying not to shake, she made a small list in her head.

_Dementors were scarier. The Chamber was scarier. McGonagall's essays were scarier. Mum's face, that time she caught Charlie and that girl in the broom shed, was scarier. Every time during the Battle when Harry was out of your sight was scarier._

_You're __**NOT**__ scared now._

If only she could will it to be true.

Turning her head, she saw Nell and Bart holding hands tightly. The both gave her smiles of reinforcement. They were too helpful, though, their eyes too reassuring to give her any real hope. It wasn't the smile she wanted to see and the eyes weren't what she needed. She couldn't get strength from their eyes.

Neither of them was green.

Was he really here, watching her be so pathetic and weak? The idea made her ill and she was grateful there was nothing in her stomach to expel.

"Ms. Weasley." She snapped her head to Sapien's corner. "If you would please make your case to us."

All of Bart's advice and instructions leaked out of her head, leaving her nothing to grasp at. Just fear and growing ball of pressure in her belly that she could almost taste in the back of her mouth. Why was this so hard? Why did it seem her entire life hinged on staying here? Maybe Harry was right; she did have family outside, support and love, if she could find it in her to cast aside her pride and ask them for help. Maybe…

_You know why you need to stay!_ She insisted to herself, almost jumping at the fierceness of her inner tone. _You're more scared than someone about to eat Hagrid's cooking? Fine. But that doesn't give you the right to take this chance and throw it up to the birds!_

"Ms. Weasley?" Sapien asked again.

"I-I don't," she floundered, "I mean, I don't know ex-exactly what you want me to say. I just…"

"Please, tell us about yourself," a kinder voice said from the corner behind her.

"My…my name is Gin…Ginevra Weasley," she began, mustering every bit of control to keep her voice from trembling. "Uh, but please don't call me that. If someone calls me that, um, I expect to see my mum somewhere, shouting about the mess in my room." Wisps of laughter broke out in the room. Bravely, she raised her eyes, her posture relaxing a tiny bit. There was no hostility in anyone's eyes, only curiosity.

_They want to know you_, she thought, almost awed. _They want to accept you. Just find a way to open up to them._

Smiling a little, she said, "Everyone calls me Ginny."

With that, she launched into a not-so-brief speech, completely by the seat of her pants. As long as the words kept coming out of her mouth, the fear was held at bay. She vaguely heard her voice mention her family with love and affection; talking about playing with the Harpies and winning two championships with them; telling them about the cat she found when she was five, near the orchard at the Burrow (she brought it food every day for a month until it didn't come back and she cried every night in her room for what seemed like ages); listing her favorite subjects and her top marks in school; admitting that she hadn't been back to visit her brother's grave since the funeral because she couldn't bear to see his name on a tombstone. Everything poured out, with no filter, until without her even realizing it, the whole of her life lay bare in front of them. Some bits of it she heard more laughter around her, but most parts kept her audience silent, taking in what she was giving them.

Finally, Ginny stopped, surprised at how scratchy her throat felt. She waited, her anxiousness creeping up again.

"That was rather…enlightening" Sapien told her, crossing a leg over his knee. His eyes considered hers for a long while; a peculiar rush of coolness swept through to her core and her nerves seized her once more. Ginny started to speak, but he stopped her before she made a sound. "You have nothing else to share with us about who you are or what you think lies ahead in your future?"

"I…I don't understand…?"

"You speak highly of your family," the councilwoman in the front left corner said before Sapien could continue. "If you live here, it will mean limited contact with them during your trial. Can you accept?"

"Yes," Ginny replied uneasily. "It…it won't be easy, of course, but I think of this as home now more than I do the house I grew up in. And my family…there's been a fair amount of distance over the years. But that was my choice," she was quick to clarify. "And not because I don't love them all to death. I just…I've made…the choices in my life led to estrangement between us. They did nothing to wrong to me. They are all the most wonderful people."

"Do you not wish to bridge that gap?"

She nodded quickly. "So much, sir. I can't even put it into words. However, I know that my place is here right now."

"Are they approving of you being here?"

"I-I don't know." She shrugged, so ashamed for how careless she was with her own family the past few years. "They don't know I'm here. My arrival was a bit of whirlwind, to tell the truth. I was invited here by a good friend, Luna Lovegood." Ginny saw many in the crowd nod in understanding. Her feelings started to be able to translate themselves into words. "Hastom was only supposed to be a vacation, a reprieve of sorts from my life. I was terrified to come here; if Luna had given me more than five minutes to consider it, I probably wouldn't have come at all. But I'll be forever grateful that she only gave me four minutes because this place is miraculous. It was an answer to questions I didn't even think to ask. I want my family to be a huge part of my life again and I hope they will be someday. Because I'll spend every day of my life proving my love to them and not taking them for granted anymore. Hopefully, though, it'll have to wait six more months. When the petition that I'm asking-no, begging-you for is granted."

There was quiet talk in the audience until another council member spoke up.

"How will you support yourself here?" the kind female behind Ginny asked her. "You stated that you were a Quidditch player, 'were' as in past tense. Do you have financial means to provide for yourself?"

A job. Proof of employment. Didn't every landlord ask for that first thing? Of course, in her rush to submit herself to this ordeal, she hadn't thought to secure any type of job. Choosing the right outfit had taken precedence over a way to earn money. So stupid! Thinking that her stipend from the Harpies was the only thing she had to go with, she wracked her mind for a way to explain stretching out that money as long as possible, when a cough interrupted her.

"Excuse me, Councilwoman Elton?" Bart said, raising his hand and standing. "Ginny has a job all lined up." He winked at Ginny.

"I do?" she mouthed to him as inconspicuously as she could manage.

"She does?"

"She do. I mean, she does. She does have a job here in Hastom."

"And that job is?"

"Waitressing for me. Not for me, per se, but my pub. The Millennium Falcon, home of the finest ale and lager in our fair village." Murmurs of agreement shot up from the crowd. He directed his voice to the entire building. "We are also home to Witches Night. Every Thursday from six until ten, all witches drink at half-"

"Was there anything else, Citizen Nixon?" Sapien asked, shaking his head, the laughter of the swarm of people subsiding. As Bart was about to speak, Sapien silenced him again. "Unrelated to your business ventures?"

Bart visibly deflated. "Damn it," he said under his breath. Nell shot him a scathing look of reproach, pulling him down into his seat. Before his behind settled onto the bench, he shot up again. "Actually, yeah, there is one more thing." He smiled at Ginny, with such affection her chest tumbled. "I found Ginny one day, just sitting in my kitchen with my wife. I wasn't looking for her to barrel headlong into my life; now, I couldn't be happier to have her be a part of it. Hastom will be happy too, if it opens its arms to her."

"Thank you, Citizen Nixon," Councilwoman Elton declared as Bart sat down.

"Thank you," Ginny mouthed again, holding a hand over her heart, hoping he understood her appreciation was for far more than just the job he had given her for no other reason except friendship.

"You're welcome," he mouthed. He kissed Nell's forehead as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I assume this matter was discussed with Citizen Nixon prior to this evening?" one of the other council members asked skeptically.

"Somewhat," Ginny hedged, trying not to lie. "Nothing firm was agreed upon. We…We wanted to make sure I had been approved before making any firm commitments."

"And you are happy to go from a star Quidditch player to a waitress in a pub?"

"Ecstatic," she said without hesitation. It was true. Maybe a few months ago, it would have seemed a punishment for her, but now it was a blessing from above.

"Why did you leave Quidditch, Ms. Weasley? Sapien asked seriously. Ginny swallowed, heart hammering again. "I do not believe you mentioned that."

"There were…well, there were personal reasons."

"Such as?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure what you're alluding to, Councilman Stellner," she said, knowing perfectly well what he was alluding to. It was in those gold eyes that could burn through her like kindling. Somehow, he knew of the baby. The coolness she had felt when he studied her earlier suddenly made sense. Auntie Muriel had told stories of a supposed Empath in the family, generations ago. The trademark of most Empaths, according to Muriel, was the coldness that washed over one's body when an Empath was trying to read them.

_So he knows_, she thought, eying him. _And he thinks it's best if I tell everyone. Isn't that nice of him, to try to force my hand. _

As she studied him, he gave her the tiniest of winks like he had that afternoon…almost as if he was trying to send her a message of some sorts. And then it hit her:

If the Council accepted her now, without knowing about the baby, the villagers might think she had lied to them when they eventually saw her growing belly. They might not vote in her favor after her six months. But if she put aside her pride and told them now, they'd know her to be honest. Something they valued.

Sapien was giving her a choice. He was more of an expert on Hastom and its people than she would ever be. He wouldn't announce the pregnancy himself, though.

He was giving her a choice and trusting she'd know what was right.

"Actually," she said again, her eyes never leaving Sapien's, "I'm sorry. I believe I do know what you mean."

"And that is…?" he prompted gently. He gave her an almost invisible nod of support.

Holding her head high, she proclaimed softly, "I'm about three months pregnant with my first child." Hushed voices rang up around her. "Playing Quidditch wasn't safe for my baby so I quit. It wasn't easy, but it was right," she said with more volume to be heard. "I was told, though, at a young age that what's right isn't often easy."

Telling all those people she was pregnant sure hadn't been easy. Hopefully, it had been right.

It took a few moments for the room to settle down. When it did, a young woman who looked barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts stood up, a toddler sleeping heavily against her shoulder.

"May I ask a question?" she asked the Council.

"Of course, Citizen Schuler."

She turned to face Ginny. "Did your husband pass away and leave you alone suddenly?"

"No," she answered honestly, bracing herself. "I've never been married."

"The child's father-?"

"Is not now, nor will he ever be, involved in my baby's life, which I promise you is best for all concerned. And forgive for my bluntness, but neither you nor anyone else here is among those concerned," she said hotly.

Mrs. Schuler shook her head sadly. "If you live here," she said, patting her child's back, "you and your baby may be our concern. We might not all be family, but when you're a citizen here, we take care of each other. If someone needs a hand fixing a roof or they can't pick up their groceries at the market or if they need an hour away from a crying infant, we pitch in without regard to blood lines. Our children are our dearest gifts in life. No one person can do it all by themselves, no matter how capable they may be. A mother's love is a force like none on this Earth; couple that with the love of a community," she nuzzled her nose against her child's fine hair, "and no child could ask for more."

"I see," Ginny whispered, unable to take eyes off the baby as it stirred against its mother. "Please, um, forgive me for-"

"Think nothing of it, love," Mrs. Schuler smiled, sitting down. "It takes everything in me not to lash out at the world when I'm carrying a little one inside of me. You'll probably say and do much worse in the next few months."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Good. Something to look forward to."

The room was still laughing when a stocky man with curly blonde hair near the front of the room stood up. "May I ask a question?"

"Yes, Citizen Blythe, you may."

"I'm not what you call a modern man," he said, frowning slightly. "I was raised in a traditional house, with my ma and da. I grew up here, surrounded by other kids, most of whom had a ma and a da of their own. If they didn't, it was because they had one parent or both in the ground. So forgive me if I'm not pleased as punch at the thought of letting a woman with no ring on her finger bear a bastard child in our borders!" There was dissent against him throughout the crowd in the forms of boos and shouts of displeasure; there were also some silently nodding their heads in agreement. Ginny stared daggers at the man, her temper at its breaking point.

"Is there a question you wish to ask, Citizen Blythe? If so, please do it without any more speeches."

"My question," he said, meeting Ginny's venomous gaze, "is what kind of woman were you on the outside, **Miss** Weasley, to choose a man that you would not want to raise a child with?"

"How dare you?" she spit out, the crowd roaring around her in protest to the man's question. "You know nothing of my life!"

"SILENCE!" Sapien stood and roared to the people. Those who had risen to their feet sat; the silence hung uneasily in the air. "Sit down, Citizen Blythe, at once! There was no call for that." Sapien faced Ginny once again. She was faintly trembling with rage and humiliation. "Forgive me, Ms. Weasley," he said to her, "but as crudely as Citizen Blythe chose to raise the subject, I feel it is one you may wish to discuss."

"Oh, do you now?" she asked, sarcasm drenching her words.

"Yes, unfortunately I do," he replied quietly, sitting back down. "Not for gossip or sport. Only for a deeper understanding of who you are. The conception of your child was clearly one of the factors leading to your arrival here. A discussion on the topic seems warranted."

She folded her arms against herself even tighter than before, reminding herself that giving the entire lot of them elephant-sized ears and crooked teeth would not help the situation.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

"How long where with the child's father?" the other councilman asked after some deliberation.

Mindful that Harry was lurking somewhere in this room, she chose her words carefully. "The father," she said, Lionel's smirking face coming to her mind and scalding her heart, "was not a good man. It pains me to even think of him. Discussing him among people I don't know is something I refuse to do."

Councilwoman Elton observed, "You seem rather upset by this topic."

"Well, I am." The mere thought of Lionel and his disgusting self-satisfied smile sent her back to watching as the ugliness had unfolded out of him, nearly infecting her and almost costing her daughter…She pummeled the thought into submission, the spikes of rage and despair practically shooting out of her fingertips.

Ginny would not let him poison her any longer, in memory or in life.

"You do not like thinking of your child's father," Sapien stated.

"No, I don't."

"Then how did he become the father of your child in the first place?"

Her furor turned in to disgrace at the simple question. If only there was a simple answer for it.

"Because I was not a good person," she admitted out loud. She didn't try to mask her tears. Honesty was what they desired so she'd give it to them. "And I looked for an awful person like him. It was a terrible choice, a stupid choice. I…I love my child, more than anything in this world. There is nothing that would ever make me undo her life. But, right now, I can't but hate her father. He treated me like trash left to rot on the street and…and I let him. It was just all I thought I deserved."

"Why, my child, would you ever think that?" No one dared as much as move after Sapien's question. They kindness and compassion on their faces, which had not too long ago been a source of strength, became suffocating.

_Why did you ever think you could do this?_ She thought bitterly, succumbing to her sobs.

"That's enough," a strong voice said softly and tinged with anger. Ginny felt Harry stand up behind her, the guilt and shame threatening to swallow her whole. It was awful. She hated for him to see her tears. What right did she have to cry after what she had done to him? Why should he have to see her feel sorry for herself? Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she felt Harry press a piece of cloth into her other hand.

"I-I'm sor-" she tried to say. Harry continued unabated.

"She has a past that caused her pain. Isn't that much clear to you all? Why does she have to stand up here and recite it verbatim?" Ginny tilted her head to see a fury on his face she once thought was reserved only for Death Eaters. "Life isn't lived to be perfect. She made mistakes in her life, she doesn't deny that. But now she's trying to atone for them, to make life better for herself and for her baby. Why are you trying to condemn her for that? How many pounds of her flesh do you need?"

"Citizen Pot-"

"No! I won't say this politely or with a respectful tone. You're not respecting her and Ginny Weasley is someone you should. You heard her tell stories about her family and Quidditch and they were all true, but there are other stories too. Amazing stories that the world would think to be fiction if someone dared to put them in a book. I promise you though, they're all as real as me standing in front of you today. Stories that would cripple many of you with fear yet she lived them, most before she was even of age! She's a war hero, for goodness sakes! She risked her own life to help protect younger students under siege at Hogwarts; she's fought off Death Eaters before she even took her O.W.L.s.; she's stared into the black heart of evil and came out the other side, alive and whole, running headlong into life whenever she could, never shying away when someone in need called on her. I can't even begin to tell you how many clashes she should have run away from and didn't or how many I wish she had.

"And she possesses a kindness that most do not, cannot understand," he continued, his voice thawing a little. "I watched Ginny out on a battlefield hold the hand of a grievously injured girl, trying to ease her pain as much as possible before Death came to collect her. She had just lost a brother and instead of sitting and crying with the rest of her family, she was trying to help others the best she could. Can everyone here say they'd do the same?"

Ginny felt her heart lurch as she listened to him. He thought she had been what, noble to sit by a dying girl and watch helplessly while her blood spilled over the grass? That hadn't been nobility. The truth was it had been infinitely easier to hold the hand of a girl she barely knew and watch her slip away than it had been to stand over Fred's corpse.

Harry was wrong. He had been the noble one that night.

Sapien considered Harry's words for a moment. "Let me be frank, Citizen Potter. You and Ms. Weasley have a shared history, a history that has not always shown you kindness. Perhaps, it would be better for both of you if-"

"You, sir, are not an authority on either of us," Harry cut in. "Whatever history we have, real or theorized about amongst all of you, it belongs to only the two of us, to me and to her. Not to you, any of you. If your hesitation about her is out of a misguided concern for me, then I insist that you disregard it immediately." He spoke to his fellow citizens again. "We're not perfect, not a single one of us. Certainly not me. We all make mistakes in our lives; we all say or do things we can't always take back, no matter how much we want to. Merlin knows there are so many things I would change if I could, but I can't. What I can do, at this moment, is help a friend and I'll never think of that as a mistake. Right here, right now, this woman is asking you for second chance. All of us who came here, whose miserable lives guided us here, that's all we've ever wanted. A chance to have a peace that doesn't exist for us in the world we left behind. Ginny wants that peace in her life. In my opinion, she's more than earned it. If you deny it to her, then you turn your backs on everything Hastom holds itself to be."

There was noise all around her, most in agreement with Harry's statement; some were even clapping loudly. Ginny didn't register any of it. All she could do was stare at Harry's profile in shock. The only thought she could produce brought a different kind of tear to her eyes:

He didn't hate her anymore.

Amazing how easily her threshold to experience joy could grow.

"Ms. Weasley?" she startled a bit at her name. Blinking, she turned to Sapien, seeing him deep in thought. "Do you have anything more to add before we vote?" She shook her head mutely. "Then if you would please wait outside, we have business to attend to." He pointed his wand at the railing, forming a new gate. Harry held it open for her.

For a second, as she crossed the threshold, their eyes met and she felt herself falling back in time. Back to afternoons by the lake at school, evenings buried alone among the tall grass outside of the Burrow, and those few blissful mornings waking in his bed.

He looked at her almost like…

_Now, let's not go completely around and under the twist. He hates crying girls, remember? He'd do anything to make a sad girl smile. He just went a bit overboard with it. That's all._

"Thank you, Harry," she sniffed with all the dignity she could muster, letting her fingers glide over the ones he was using to keep the gate open for a split second. Wanting to savor the memory of feeling his rough yet oddly smooth skin against her own, she made her way out of the Meeting Hall as quickly as she could.

The warm evening air kissed her cheeks when she walked outside, the streets empty for once. Glancing down, she was surprised to see her feet actually touching the ground. It certainly felt like she was flying.

Harry didn't hate her.

He forgave her.

He could find it in him to want her in his life again.

She might even be able to say she was a citizen of Hastom someday.

She could give Iris a good life.

_Yup_, she thought, bouncing down the steps the cobbled street. _I definitely should be flying right now_. For the first time in years, the future stretching in front of her gave her hope instead of an urge to hide away and pretend it wasn't coming.

"Excuse me?" A hand tapped her shoulder. Practically turning on the tips of her toes, she greeted an unexpected pair of hazel eyes set against milky skin and framed by curly, white-blonde hair. The ground caught up with her quickly, knocking the wind out of her stomach and bruising her from her head to…well, to the tips of her toes.

She was standing in front of Meredith Oxley.

Meredith studied her carefully, taken great care to keep her expression neutral. Ginny could only hope her mouth wasn't somewhere at her knees. "You must be Ginny," Meredith eventually said.

"Yes," she breathed. Unconsciously, she hugged the handkerchief Harry had given her against her stomach, crumpled up and hidden from Meredith's view. She couldn't help but feel that it wasn't right for her to hold it. Yet, she knew she would guard it at all cost.

"I'm Meredith. Meredith Oxley."

"Yes, I know." Ginny tried hard to smile, gave it the best effort she could. Her lips just refused to curve in either direction. After all, she truly didn't know the woman enough to hate her. How could she hate a person she had never spoken to before this second? Hatred didn't exist and yet friendship, even the notion of being acquaintances, wasn't possible either.

Meredith seemed to be facing the same problem. However, she also proved herself-to Ginny, at least-to be the braver of the two. "I have no idea what to say to you," she admitted. "'It's nice to meet you' isn't appropriate because it's a lie; spitting at your feet feels wrong too, though."

Ginny could only nod in reply.

Meredith pursed her lips and glanced at the Meeting Hall. "You're staying, aren't you?"

"I don't know. I haven't been app-"

"You will be," Meredith said. "Harry told me he'd vote in favor of you; if he does, if everyone sees that he accepts you, then they will too." She clucked her tongue. "I hate to be rude, seeing as how we've just met, but I honestly have no clue why he'd want you here when the only reason he came to Hastom in the first place was to get away from you. I'm a smart girl and there's absolutely no way I can make it work in my head."

"I…I feel exactly the same," Ginny told her, shrugging helplessly.

Shaking her head, Meredith sighed all the way from her bones. "I'm tired," she said simply. "Can you please tell Harry that I'm waiting for him at his house. I don't feel up for-" Suddenly, she began laughing without humor. Ginny could only gape at her until Meredith blurted out in disbelief, "My God, it's going to be your house soon. For a good long while anyways."

Ginny looked down. "Meredith, I'm-"

"Don't!" she cut in angrily. Ginny picked her head up, aghast at hearing evidence of tears in Meredith's words, and saw the other woman walking away, her feet almost leaving a trail of smoke behind her. "If I have to hear an apology from you or yet another one from him right now, I won't be liable for my actions. Just please tell Harry I'm waiting for him," she called out when she reached an Apparition point, disappearing without looking back.

Almost as soon as she vanished, the doors of the Meeting Hall burst open and the village poured out, laughing and jovial, nearly every face with a smile for her. Ginny couldn't make herself care; congratulations and pats on the back were given freely by all who passed her. Some tried to shake her hand or offer invitations to homes for meals, but she honestly couldn't remember a single thing except for the undeniable hurt in Meredith's voice.

"Ginny!" Harry strode up to her, a huge grin on his face. Seeing him smile at her like that five minutes ago would have easily cracked the top five moments of her life. Now, it made her feel almost…dirty. "The vote didn't take long at all. A show of hands and all four went up, some a little slower than others, but unanimous is unanimous in the end." He was almost hopping up and down on the balls of his feet. Over his shoulder, she spotted Nell and Bart standing just outside the door of the Meeting Hall, chatting merrily with a few people. "So we need to go over getting you settled at the house. I have a few of spare rooms; one of them is for Teddy, but you can have your pick of the rest. We can get dinner at the pub and-"

"Maybe tomorrow, Harry. Not tonight."

Harry stilled instantly, frowning. "I thought that you would want to move in tomorrow night, before you started work at the pub next week," he said.

"I still have a few days at the inn. If the Council doesn't object, I'll finish out my stay there first."

"Why would-?"

"Meredith's waiting for you at your house," Ginny said quickly, moving past him before he could speak. Thrusting the handkerchief in his hand, she made her way back up to Bart and Nell, pasting a happy smile on her face.

Amazing how easily her threshold to experience pain could grow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note I: Another chapter for you all to (hopefully) enjoy. Thanks as always to my betas, who always go above and beyond. The song used in this chapter is (regretfully) not mine, it belongs to the Beatles. Happy Reading! **

**Author Note II: This a repost of the original Chapter Ten with some minor edits. I apologize for the confusion.**

Wednesday afternoon was cloudy, the first time since her arrival that rained had threatened to touch Hastom. The weather felt fitting as she waited alone at the cemetery gate on the outskirts of Hastom, shifting between restlessly her feet. She hated cemeteries; she had been inside far too many of them in the days and weeks after the Final Battle, becoming far too familiar at far too young an age with the rituals of laying the dead to rest.

Sapien was by himself as well. He hadn't been lying to her when he said that in Hastom the family alone buried their loved ones, nor had he been exaggerating when he declared himself to be the only one of Mr. Chornin's relatives left. Ginny had arrived at the wrought-iron gates of the small graveyard fifteen minutes before and Sapien had been the only one at Mr. Chornin's fresh plot, standing solemnly near the simple yet elegant headstone of his late father-in-law. She hated to disturb him from his mourning, but it was vital that she speak with him.

There was a loophole, somewhere, that wouldn't force Harry to take her in throughout her trial and she was determined to find it.

She had been so confident yesterday, walking into the tiny white clapboard building that housed Hastom's library, that she would find such an exception. Nell and Bart had both tried to dissuade her, unsuccessfully, their protests and assurances that there were no exceptions falling on deaf ears. As for Harry, he had occupied himself with Meredith for the weekend, probably doing his best to assure his girlfriend of his love for her. Not that Ginny knew that firsthand; it was the only assumption that made sense to her.

But that was not her focus as she prepared to research a way to avoid living with Harry. With such a small library, the town's records and historical documents would be easy enough to find and sift through.

However, as soon as she pulled the door open, her jaw hit the floor when she saw the actual size of the room. It was akin to the tents her father had used for the Quidditch World Cup the summer before her third year. A space almost double the size of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic greeted her, with rows upon rows upon rows of towering wooden shelves filled to the brim with books against the walls, extending endlessly across the room and up to the tip top of the sky-high rafters.

"Cor," she said, her whisper echoing throughout the cavernous space. Her hopes of finding a solution faded faster than the sound of her voice.

"May I help you, miss?" Ginny walked down the marble steps at a condemned woman's pace to the wide oval desk. The eager young man standing behind smiled at her helpfully.

"Um…" Her polite laughed tittered off into a sigh. "I would like all of the documents you have regarding the lodging requirements of citizens during their trial period in Hastom." She rolled her eyes. "If you have any, that is."

The young man nodded and turned to a waist-high shelf behind him of glowing jars, searching before pulling one out. "I think Leroy here can help you with that." He set the jar in front of Ginny. She blinked down at it. Peering skeptically inside, she saw a shiny white miniscule bug fluttering around, zooming back and forth across the glass.

"You named a bug Leroy?"

"It's the only name he answers to," he said, shrugging. "He ignores you if you call him anything else."

"What does he do?"

"Leroy here reads every word of every book you put in front of him, and remembers it entirely. Then afterwards, he can locate any material from any source he knows. There's an entomologist in the village, Deliock Browning, who breeds the bugs here. We call them, 'Encyclopedia Browns'." The librarian pulled out a tiny quill with a black feather and parchment and wrote:

**Hastom…Citizen Trial…Lodging…All Rules.**

He unscrewed the jar and pulled the bug out, cupping it gently in his palm; he then picked up his wand and pointed it at the bug, murmuring, "Reperiosa." He set the bug over the parchment and stood back. Immediately, as the bug hovered over the words on the parchment, they vanished, and when the paper was bare, the bug made a shiny beeline for the stacks. Squinting, Ginny saw spots of glowing white appear at various points in the different shelves.

"I've never seen anything like that," she marveled, watching as more bright spots popped up over the room.

"Wicked, isn't it?" The librarian smiled at her. He gestured behind him to show more jars of gleaming bugs, each a different color. "Leroy's our resident reference bug, but we got all sorts: Fiction, children's, topography, circulars. Anything you need, they can find. You know what that Yankee pub owner told me once?"

"Who? Bart?"

"Yeah, him. He was raised around them Muggles, see, and he says that they find information on subjects using camp otters. Can you imagine?" He snorted with laughter. "Using a camp otter to locate material for you? I mean, their little paws can't possibly hold that much information! How, I ask you, do Muggles make it through the day in one piece?"

"No idea," Ginny said offhandedly, losing count of how many spots she was seeing as new ones continued to appear. This was not going to be as easy as she imagined.

_Well, at least you know what to get Hermione for her birthday_, she thought, trying to find the positive in the situation.

That was the only good thing about that day. Hours later, as night arrived, Ginny had not found any answers in the mountains of tomes Leroy had provided for her; or rather, she didn't find an answer that she liked. Now, her only hope was that Sapien would have mercy.

Despite his seemingly kind nature, she was not confident.

In the distance, she watched Sapien bow his head at the tombstone and walk closer to it. He bent forward and placed a kiss to the top of it before straightening and heading right for her. She stood tall, prepared to launch into a reasoned, articulate argument that would keep her out of Harry's house for the next six months.

Sapien nodded graciously at her as he came up to her side, shooting her a smile. "There are no exceptions to our laws," he said without preamble. "If you wish to become a citizen here, you will live with Citizen Potter throughout the duration of your trial. That is the final say on the matter."

Ginny deflated. "But sir, if you only knew what-"

"You forget, Prospect Weasley, that I know everything. Well, almost everything." He held his arm out to her and she reluctantly linked hers through it. "I must confess though, I have never understood the game of Quidditch."

"You're joking," she said as they walked together.

"I am not. It might stem from my fear of traveling at high speeds perched on stick of a wood, but I am not certain."

"Maybe after this little one makes her appearance," Ginny laid a hand on her stomach, "you'll let me teach you some things."

"I look forward to it."

They walked in silence before Ginny finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer, "If you know everything, can you tell me what's going to happen when I move in with Harry?"

"I am afraid I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because I cannot see it yet."

"But you said you could see-"

"When I say everything, I define that as certainties. For instance, I can tell you that we should expect rain very soon."

"I could tell you that, too."

"But could you also tell me that the rain will make the roads very slippery and that because of that, Citizen Ganille will slip and fracture three of his ribs this afternoon as he is on his way to the market?"

Ginny studied his profile, shocked at how nonchalantly he had explained his knowledge. "How do you know that will happen?"

Sapien looked out into the distance, his eyes flickering slightly in and out of focus. "Because Citizen Ganille ran out of mongoose liver last night and will make a trip to the market. He decided this morning to go rather than wait until tomorrow. His decision is firm; ergo he has a rather nasty spill in store for him today."

"So you can see a future for people as soon as they pick it themselves," she concluded.

"Correct. People foolishly believe time to be narrow and inert when in reality it is a living, organic thing, relying on us to shape it. Futures are not created until the people they affect make them so, with their thoughts and their choices. Take you, for example." He patted her hand. "The evening Emmarius died, I knew that you would petition the council to stay because that was the first time it occurred to you that you could. You decided what you wanted and a new future opened itself up to you."

They approached the village together, still linked arm in arm. It wasn't until they were near the town square that Ginny thought to ask, "When will you tell, um…"

"Citizen Ganille."

"Yes. When will you tell him that he'll be hurt?"

Sapien raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. "Why do you think I would do such a thing?"

"So he won't injure himself, of course." Ginny was close to horrified at Sapien's attitude. She extracted herself from his gentle hold. "You won't tell him, will you?"

"No, because that would change his future," he explained patiently.

"If you don't, he'll be in pain."

"Yes, he will."

She stopped near the massive statue in the center of the square and put her hands on her hips in defiance. "And that doesn't bother you at all?"

"A person suffering is always a concern for me, Prospect Weasley," he said, turning to face her. "I am not without compassion. But how do we know if I tell him he will hurt himself by walking down the street today that he will not simply choose to stay home, where a branch from the oak tree outside his kitchen window will fall and crash through his roof, crushing him underneath its weight?"

Ginny paused. "Is that what will happen?"

"I do not know because I will not tell him he will fall near the market today and open the possibility to a future that could kill him." With the aura of a schoolteacher, he put his hands on her shoulders. "You are young and though you have seen more than your share of horrors, you do not possess the knowledge that I do: Fate is a willful, untamable creature. The second you try to control it, it wreaks havoc upon you until it gets its own way. All we can do is make the best decisions we can with the knowledge we do have and live our lives."

Sighing, she sat down on a bench at the perimeter of the statue. "That's all I've tried to do from the moment I decided I was keeping the baby. Every choice I've made is about giving my daughter the best life possible. Staying here and becoming a citizen is right for us, but to spend six months of it with him…I'm just so nervous about what's going to happen to him if I stay."

"Why, may I ask?" She arched her eyebrow in question to which he offered a smile. "Forgive me. My idea of a joke."

"Not a very good one."

"So there are two things in this world I do not understand: Quidditch and the art of a punch line. But to return to the cause of your concerns, you feel that Citizen Potter will suffer if you stay."

"I mean…I ended things between the two of us. It wasn't easy for me and I'm only now beginning to understand how painful it was for Harry. He's…" Ginny breathed in deeply, "he's moved on with his life now and I-I've tried to as well. It's…frankly, it's quite annoying sometimes. There are all of these layers, it seems, of hurt and each time we get through one, there's a new one underneath it that burns even sharper than the last. How can we be expected to suddenly put all that combustible history behind us?

"Ah, therein lies the cause of all your stress," Sapien said, sitting beside her. "Time. Specifically, your past time with Citizen Potter. Let me pose this question to you: Say Citizen Potter had never existed." Ginny shifted, uncomfortable with such a thought. "Or, perhaps that you and he had never crossed paths. Would you still, on the eve of moving in with him today for your trial period, be in such a state of internal chaos?"

"But I do know him!" she cried, exasperated with his questions and the inexplicable logic that made sense in his mind only. She thrust her face into her hands. "That's what mucking all this up to begin with!"

"Are you sure you know him?" Sapien asked, drawing her face back into view. She opened her mouth, but Sapien started speaking again. "I do not doubt that you still care for him as anyone would for someone they have known since childhood. That is not what I am asking. It has been three years since you parted company. You have had only a handful of moments together in that time. Do you really believe that he, or you for that matter, has not changed in that time? Is it not possible that he could be a stranger to you after so long?"

She wanted to deny him, to shout for all to hear that Sapien Stellner was a Class-A plonker of the highest order, but the words wouldn't come. There was enough truth in what he was saying to give her pause. She knew Harry as a boy, as a teenager, and as someone on the cusp of manhood, but in truth, she didn't know the person he had become in the three years they spent apart.

He lived in Hastom; he was an Auror; he lived by a lake; he coached Quidditch for young children in his spare time; he had two new friends named Bart and Nell; and he had a girlfriend who visited once a month. That was it. In twenty-eight days of being here, around him nearly every day, she hadn't gleamed much more than that. Harry had never offered the information, but had she ever made the effort to really ask? Or was she too afraid of the answers she'd receive?

Could she really say, with a straight face, that her heart still belonged to a man that might only still exist in her memory?

She leaned forward and propped her chin on her hand, giving Sapien a wry smile. "It's going to be awful, isn't it?" she asked him. "Harry and I living together, I mean. It just has disaster written all over it. You're right after all: He and I don't know each other anymore; he has…someone else in his life, who by all accounts is a decent person that means a great deal to him; I'm pregnant with another man's child; and now we're going to be roommates for six whole months. Don't need to be a Seer to see how this is going to work out."

"It will be exactly as awful as you wish it to be, Prospect Weasley."

She nodded. "He's going to have pictures of his girlfriend in the house," she stated distantly, almost to herself. "Pictures of the pair of them together, looking happy and in love and…and completely unaware that I'm about to come barreling in and insert myself into their happy and lovely relationship, something neither of them asked for. Please explain to me how that will not be awful?"

He gave her a far more hopeful smile. "Citizen Bart Nixon shows these Muggle movies to the village. I am actually quite fond of them. There is one in particular that has always resonated with me. It is about a wizard and a quartet of characters that set off to find him. When they finally reach his palace, they are stopped by a guard at the door. The guard is adamant that he will not give them entry, their cries not moving him an inch, until he sees that the young heroine is wearing a pair of magical red shoes. Upon seeing this, he cries out, 'Well that's a horse of a different color!' and proceeds to let them in. They were the exact same group, saying the exact same things, but when the guard saw those shoes, his opinion of them changed entirely. It is a lovely film; you should have him show it to you sometime.

"My point is this: If you choose to see your current situation with such bleakness, such despondency, than yes it will be awful. Unbearable even. Of course, if you choose to see your citizenship trial as sharing a home with an old friend who so wanted you to be a part of his life again that he was willing to risk a, as you call it, happy and lovely relationship, than it might be something else entirely. It might be…"

"…a horse of a different color," she concluded, staring into space, her head swimming with the realization that perhaps there might be a part of Harry that had known the trouble her presence would cause in his life and still decided that having her there was worth it.

Her heart, though, couldn't risk opening itself to such a notion.

Sapien patted her back affectionately. "I have faith in your judgment," he told her. He pulled her to her feet and they set off in the direction of the Green Swallow. "We did not get a chance to speak after the meeting the other night, but I have some official business to discuss with you. You are, of course, aware of the stipulation of your living arrangements. There are also other requirements of your trial that must be strictly adhered to for the next six months."

"I know. Nell and Bart explained everything to me at dinner last night."

"I am afraid I must insist that you explain the rules to me in your own words. Formalities and such."

"Okay," she nodded. "The rule they stressed the most to me was the limitation on the use of my magic. I'm not allowed to use magic except in the cases of communication, travel outside of the village if permitted, or a life-threatening medical emergency to myself or someone near me physically."

"Correct. And the reason for this is?"

"Another one of your ideas of a funny joke?" she tried.

"Prospect Weasley…"

"To help foster a deeper appreciation of magic. At least that's what Nell said. Bart, having endured it himself, described the restriction as something else entirely: It was a combination of the words 'bull' and a synonym for excrement."

"Yes, that sounds like Citizen Nixon. What else?"

"I cannot leave Hastom during my trial, except for work or a medical emergency involving myself or an immediate family member."

"Yes. What else?"

"I am required to volunteer one day a month in a community project, like maintaining the public herb garden or visiting with the elderly and infirm. The only acceptable excuse for absence is sickness of me or a family member. Also, if I see a fellow citizen in need of assistance that I can provide, I will make myself available to them as best I can, such as child minding or if someone needs help repairing a home or possession."

"Correct."

"A small portion of my wage will be taken to pay for the materials needed to build the home I'll live in when I become a citizen. The fund is controlled by the Council. I can add more to that fund if I wish to have a larger home. The house will be built and given to me after my six month trial. If, for some reason, I don't complete the trial, the money is returned to me in full."

"Excellent." The Green Swallow came into view. "Well, this is where we part company for the time being. Will you be requiring assistance moving your belongings?"

"No, thank you. Harry, Nell, and Bart are helping. I don't have a lot here with me. Most of it's in London still and a lot of it is sentimental. Don't want to risk it getting lost or damaged traveling without anyone. Since I can't get it myself, I was going to owl Luna sometime soon and see if she'd be able to bring it whenever she had a chance."

"Perhaps someone here would be willing to retrieve your things for you."

"I'll make do with what I have. There's no reason to trouble anyone else with it."

The sky opened and the rain began to fall in large, sweeping drops. Ginny immediately ducked under the awning over the door of the inn while Sapien remained out in the street.

"You are not a burden to anyone, Prospect Weasley," he told her over the rain. "It is far past time that you realize that." He bowed his head farewell. "May the remaining day bring you peace."

Ginny was taken aback by his bluntness. His back was to her and halfway down the street when she shook off her shock. Not that she knew what to say to such a thing.

Or if she wanted to make the effort to ponder what truth, if any, went with it.

******

That evening, after she had handed in her room key, Mrs. Nettles handed Ginny a large wicker basket filled with warm bread and blueberry muffins, along with a separate wrapped box containing a new tea set.

"It was lovely having you here, dear," she told a teary Ginny. "You stop by and visit whenever you feel the urge to."

"Thank you." She bent to hug the small woman, but Mrs. Nettles raised her eyebrow and stuck out her jeweled hand instead. Ginny graciously took it in hers, trying to put all her emotions into the handshake.

"Oh look, Gin," Bart said to her from his place at the desk. "The evil, tiny witch lady has feelings. Where's a camera when you need one?"

Mrs. Nettles turned her purple eye on him menacingly. "Do you know the wonderful thing about having no feelings?"

"What's that?"

"A distinct lack of guilt at committing horrible acts of violence against others who open up their wide traps," she said darkly. Bart didn't reply, but took a few swift steps towards the door, while Ginny giggled and wiped away her tears. Bart nearly jumped to the ceiling when the door opened behind him, smacking him in the back.

Nell wedged her way past her husband, paying no mind to the murderous look he gave her. "Are you ready? Packed to the brim and ready to embark on a new adventure?" she asked Ginny with a huge smile.

"As I'll ever be." Ginny threw her Harpies duffle over her shoulder, trying to secure the box under her arm and carry the basket. Mrs. Nettles strode over to Bart, paying no mind to the fact that he was still twisting his neck and lifting his t-shirt to try to see the size of the bruise forming on his back; she swiftly punched her small-and heavily armored-hand into his knee cap.

"Ouch!" he yelped, struggling not to fall over. "Why do women think that it's okay to beat me up? It's not! If there was a question of it before now, let me be clear that I am not a fan of it!" Nevertheless, he hobbled dramatically over to Ginny and relieved her of most of her things, keeping a wide berth of the diminutive innkeeper. She thought about trying to step on his foot for good measure, but decided to reward him with a kiss to his cheek.

Mrs. Nettles cackled throatily before her eye shifted around the group. "Where is Harry? He's not going to escort the prospective citizen to her new home? I thought that boy knew manners."

Ginny tensed, noticing for the first time that he wasn't there. The plan was for Harry to meet Nell before she got off work and the two of them would meet Bart and Ginny at the inn. But she had walked in alone with no one following in after.

"Is…did he change his mind about me living with him?" Ginny asked, half hoping the answer was yes.

"No, of course not!" Nell assured her. "He Flooed me a few minutes ago. Something happened with Teddy at his school today and Harry went to help sort him out."

"With Teddy? Is he alright? Is he hurt or-?"

Nell waved off her concerns as she went over to her. "He's fine. Teddy has trouble with his physical changes as a Metamorphagus. It takes kids time to learn to control the shifts, especially when they're young. At an early age, the shifts are based more on emotions: If he starts laughing hysterically or having a tantrum, his hair will start changing color or his fingernails will grow out a whole foot. Simple things like that."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. "So Harry's good at calming him down again?"

"He's the best," Bart chimed in. "Teddy worships him and that little boy can do no wrong in Harry's eyes."

"He was only learning to talk the last time I was with him," Ginny revealed softly, thinking back to the baby with plump apple cheeks, a gummy grin that could almost touch the tips of his ears, and bright turquoise hair. "I don't think I ever saw Harry smile bigger than when Teddy said 'Haw-ee' for the first time."

"So, Harry said he'll join us at the house when he gets things sorted out with Teddy," Nell explained. "It can take a while, depending on how serious the shift was. He told me that we should just get you as settled in as we can. Ready?"

"No," she admitted. "But that hasn't stopped me from anything lately." Tightening her hold on the bag, she gave Mrs. Nettles one more smile and stepped out of the inn with her friends by her side.

They were quiet on the trek to Harry's home. Eventually, Nell took the basket from Bart and wound her fingers through his, casually swinging their arms back and forth. Ginny felt a small but sharp twinge of envy as she literally watched the utter ease of their relationship. There were no questions or concerns about the past, they enjoyed each other in the present, and their future was seemingly open to any wonderful possibility.

She would never wish ill fortune on such amazing, kindhearted people. Not in a million years. Life was lived to find the happiness that Bart and Nell Nixon had found in one another. She knew that firsthand.

But there was a part of her-an ugly part of her that she had to believe existed in everyone-that almost wished she could hate them for having (or at least holding on to) what she didn't.

Before the negative energy of her thoughts could spread, the trio arrived at Harry's cottage. Ginny walked a little ways ahead of the married couple, down the small grassy hill, studying the house with fresh eyes. The view of the lake and the small island across from the dock was as amazing as she remembered, but this time, the sprawling three-story cottage itself held her attention. A small path of stones at the base of the slope led to the cherry-wood front door of the cottage. The huge bay windows along the walls allowed natural light to pour into the home while simultaneously making the cottage's dark-wood exterior glow.

"It's beautiful," Ginny said out loud. And it was. Truly, it was the nicest looking place she had ever called home. Lionel's apartment didn't count, not with the benefit of hindsight. That colorless, formal setting had never been a home; just a place to lay her head and allow herself to be distracted away from what wasn't in her life. But this place…

With great care, she stepped onto the stone path. It was intricate in a rather haphazard way; no stone matched the other but it was clear that someone had put in great time and effort to make sure every rock was in the perfect spot. Too perfect. Like she knew exactly where each stone was supposed to be. A memory was burning in the back of her mind, demanding to be recalled. The closer she got, she could see that the same odd perfection of the path was reflected in the earthy wood of the cottage and the silver-gray shingles on the roof. Even the lamp scones hanging by the door were familiar.

_I know this house_, she thought, squinting in concentration, trying to make the pieces fit. _Somewhere, at some time, I knew this place. But where on Earth…?_

"What do you think?" she heard Nell ask as the pair sidled up to Ginny's side. "It's nice, isn't it?"

"Nice?" Bart asked incredulously. "It better be nice. Do you remember how long he worked on this place and how much help I gave him?"

"What kind of help are you talking about? You put in the doorknobs."

"Can you open a door without a doorknob? Can you have rooms without doors? And lastly, can you have a home without rooms?" Bart ticked off the list with his fingers. Nell only rolled her eyes in response. "No, I didn't think so. See, honey, this is why men build things and women push children out of their bodies." He pulled his wand out and waved it at the door in a long, slow sweep. From the windows, she could see the lower level of the house light up from the inside. The door clicked and Bart stepped to open it. He turned back to face Ginny, smiling. "Home sweet home."

"For now," she said under her breath. Nell prodded her forward and Bart held the door open wide, allowing her to enter first.

The living room greeted her warmly, with its red and white striped walls enveloping the large space. A plush red couch sat between a pair of cozy burgundy armchairs near the fireplace, the mantle filled with moving photographs. A worn throw rug under the coffee table was the only thing covering the hardwood floor and a small selection of tasteful, if somewhat generic pictures were hung on the walls. There was a wireless on one end table and assorted lamps and plants on the others; a small toy chest with little scraps of cloth spilling out sat next to the fireplace and to her surprise, an upright piano was showcased in the far right corner. To her left was a pair of French doors that led to a formal dining room and a staircase to the second floor; in front of her, another entrance that showed a glimpse of a tidy kitchen.

Clutching her bag tighter, Ginny walked in, caressing the fabric of the chairs with her fingertips and taking in the still silence of the room.

_Home_, she thought, testing out the word in her head. _My home…Harry's home…my and Harry's home…_

Nell and Bart joined her, the latter taken the basket from Nell and going to put it and Mrs. Nettles' gift in the kitchen. As Ginny drifted around the space, examining every detail, Nell perched herself on the arm of the couch.

"It's a great house," she said, trying to catch Ginny's eye. "I tease Bart about it, but he wasn't lying about all the work Harry put into this place. He declined the Council's offer to have it built for him and did it himself, with some minor assistance from Bart, emphasis on the minor. Harry built the frame, the foundation, and few of the really complicated things with magic. The rest he did by hand: The walls, the floor, the windows; he even put the shingles on the roof. It was almost his obsession for a while, after he became a citizen and he started building. He slept out in the yard, in an old beaten up tent until the house was done. It made us a little worried about him, actually."

"He wanted it to be just right," Ginny said without thinking, looking at the pictures on the mantle. There were flashes of Teddy growing across several photos; Harry, Ron, and Hermione at a Ministry event she couldn't remember going to; his parents sitting together on a red sofa, wrapped in each other's arms; various Weasley's smiling and waving on the grass outside the Burrow; and a shot of three young boys-two dark haired and one with light brown-all in Hogwarts uniforms. One of the boys had Harry's face, but different eyes, and one end was jagged, as if it had been cut to hide something from view. Meredith's face didn't look back at her from any of the frames. "You would too, if you didn't have a real home until you turned eleven."

"You know Harry very well," Nell said gently.

Ginny turned away from the pictures of Harry's family. "Not that well. Not anymore." She walked to the piano and brushed the keys with her hands, trilling notes of music springing forth. "It's been a long time and he's changed from when I knew him."

"You know the important things," Nell countered, her voice unquestioning, "the things that truly matter. You just need to let yourself remember them."

Bart came back in before she could speak, going straight to the piano. He bumped Ginny to the side, sitting down on the bench and cracking his fingers. He put his fingers to the keys and began to play, a cheerful melody flowing out of the piano and into the room. A wide smile broke out on Ginny's face. Before she could say a word, Bart broke into song:

_Desmond has a barrow in the marketplace  
>Molly is the singer in a band<br>Desmond says to Molly, "Girl I like your face"  
>And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand<em>

_Obladi, Oblada, life goes on, brah  
>Lala, how the life goes on<br>Obladi, Oblada, life goes on, brah  
>Lal, how the life goes on<em>

"He's divine!" Ginny said to Nell over the singing.

"Yes, he is. He even performs sometimes at the pub. Amazing, isn't it? He can play a complicated musical instrument all on his own yet somehow he can't figure out how to lower a toilet seat."

Ginny laughed, bouncing a bit to the beat of music, her worries hiding themselves well behind Bart's wonderful singing voice.

_Obladi, Oblada, life goes on, brah  
>Lala, how the life goes on<br>Obladi, Oblada, life goes on, brah  
>Lala, how the life goes on<em>

_In a couple of years, they have built a home sweet home  
>With a couple of kids running in the yard…<em>

Bart stopped singing but kept playing, looking up at Ginny with expectant eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"Finish the lyrics!"

"I don't know the song. I thought you made it up on your own."

"Are you kidding? This is a Beatles classic, how do you not know it?"

"Beatles? Do you mean like the bugs at the library, but instead of reading, these ones sing? That's crazy!"

The music stopped abruptly. Bart turned his horror-stricken face from Ginny to his wife, who merely shrugged in reply.

"She's a Pureblood, remember? How would she know about Muggle music?"

He nodded woodenly, gathering himself together. Standing up, he turned back to Ginny and gently pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair and rocking her.

Confused, she mumbled into his shoulder, "What's going on?"

"It's not your fault, okay? Do you hear me? It is not your fault at all that you have been deprived your whole life of good music." His voice cracked a bit. "Beautiful, sweet music that lifts the soul and turns frowns into smiles. But we're going to work together to fix that." He pulled back and held her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. Somehow, she managed not to crack up laughing but it was close. "I will teach you all I know of popular culture.

"You will be able to quote every single lyric of every song by the Talking Heads.

"You will learn what a flux capacitor is and why owning a DeLorean is the coolest thing any person can ever do.

"You will see that constructing a Hobbit costume by hand for a _Lord of the Rings_ convention can and should take precedence over a wide variety of things, including marital relations with one's spouse.

"You will, after careful thought and consideration chose a superhero to pledge your allegiance to. I promise not to influence your decision in any way, but if you pick any one other than Spiderman, I cannot acknowledge your existence anymore.

"And on my honor," he cupped her face between her hands, "you will see _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ at least one hundred and seventy-two times and be able to shout out every call back with accuracy and with pride. I give you my word, Ginevra Weasley."

She was shaking with the effort of not laughing. Nell was lying across the length of the sofa, her hand clasped over her mouth, trying to keep her snickering mute.

"O-Okay," Ginny bit out, with as much seriousness as she could muster.

"Okay."

Nell couldn't hold back anymore. A booming snort of laughter escaped her and Ginny soon joined her, plopping down on the piano bench, tears leaking out of her eyes. Bart shook his head at the cackling women.

"You," he pointed at his wife, "mock me at every opportunity for…for…"

"Being a nerd of the highest order?"

"Having passionate interests in certain subjects! But let me remind you of something, my dear." He walked over to the couch and leaned over Nell, trapping her in between his arms. "You knew all of my quirks and still married me. What does that say about you?"

"That you drugged me when you begged me to marry you?" Bart ducked his head and laughed, but Ginny stiffened from her perch on the bench. Potions-and using them on people you claimed to love-was a touchy subject for her now, and probably would be forever. Nell realized as soon as she saw Ginny's face that her words had been in poor taste and the smile left her face. With her husband not focusing on her, she looked straight at Ginny and mouthed, "I'm sorry."

Ginny nodded in reply. The outside world suddenly began to encroach on the little bubble of normality they had created and she was tired.

She cleared her throat to get Bart's attention. "So I'm inside the house now," she said, faking cheer. "You guys should feel free to go on with whatever plans you had for the night."

"No, we can help you get unpacked. It's no trouble at all."

"This bag," she held up her duffle before setting it down on the floor, "is all I have. There's no sense in you two staying here and watching me unpack my knickers for all of the ten minutes it will take me to do it. Go on, have a night to yourselves. You two realize that you haven't had a full evening with just each other since I arrived?"

"It wasn't like we were all hanging out, and we were counting down to when we were free of you," Bart said. "You're our friend, not dead weight we had to carry around against our will."

"I know that," she said quickly, forcing her eyes not to drift from his, "and it's been wonderful fun, but I think I'd just like an evening in to get settled."

Nell keenly understood what Ginny wasn't saying and nodded in agreement. "That sounds alright to me."

Bart wasn't as convinced. "We should really stay until Harry-" he tried to say until Ginny cut him off.

"Harry and I don't need chaperones to be in a room together." Her tone was more biting than she wanted it to be, but she desperately wanted to be by herself. Harry would be home in a short time and she needed to time alone to appear collected and cool before he arrived. She took a calming breath. "I mean, he and I are going to be living together for a while; it's not like you and Nell can move in, too. Harry and I have to learn how to do this alone."

Bart furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Something in her expression must have convinced him because he held up his hands in defeat. "Okay. I get it. I'm not a moron; I can see when I'm being pushed out the door."

"No, I would never-"

"I'm kidding," he assured her, going to give her a hug goodbye. "Relax. It dramatically increases your life expectancy." Pecking her cheek, he went to the front door, giving Ginny and Nell a moment alone.

"I'm sorry," Nell said when Bart was out of earshot. "That was so insensitive of me before."

Ginny pulled her close. "Don't fret over it. Please don't do it again, but also don't fret over it."

"I should tell you something. I've been meaning to but I hadn't found a good time for it."

"What?"

"Harry…well, when he found out I had seen you in London, he asked me about him. Lionel, I mean," Nell admitted into her ear. "Not Lionel specifically, rather who the baby's father is."

Her shoulders tensed to coils. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth, which is that I couldn't say anything about privileged information." Nell pulled back, holding Ginny's eyes. "But you do know Harry: If he has any doubts, he won't give up until you give him an answer. I didn't want to upset you; I just wanted to give you fair warning."

Truthfully, Ginny wouldn't have minded an ambush if it meant that she didn't have to add yet another worry to her overcrowded head, but Nell's heart had been where it always was, in the right place. "Thank you."

Nell pulled her to the open door where the moon was shown to be out in full. "There's a bathroom through the kitchen and to the right," she explained, "and one upstairs as well. The fridge is stocked and I ordered Harry last night to make sure there were fresh linens in all of the guest rooms. I don't know how long he'll be so…"

"I'll be fine." Ginny gave her hand a squeeze and led her and Bart outside. "Thank you again, for all you've done. Not just today, but with everything."

Bart clapped her shoulder. "Not a problem at all. I will see you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning for your first shift. There will also be a wide array of music for you to listen to and educate yourself with."

"Sounds like fun."

"We'll start off easy with some classic rock and pop of the twentieth century: The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Michael Jackson and Madonna from the eighties, maybe even throw in a little U2."

Ginny nodded as if she understood. "Me too?"

"No, no. U2."

"Yes, I heard you. Me too, what?"

Bart threw his hands up in disgust, stalking back up the hill. "You will not break me, Ginny! Do you hear me? You will not break me!"

Nell eyes squinted with her smile. "Please do try, though. He's so adorable when he's like that. You sure you'll be alright here?"

She shrugged and answered the question with another question. "This is crazy, right? I'm not crazy to know in my gut that this whole situation is crazy, am I?"

Nell shook her head. "No, this definitely has an air of insanity to it. But you know something; I've been around Harry almost every day for three years. I've heard him argue with Bart about Muggle things, with fellow citizens about issues here in Hastom, and even with Meredith when he thinks no one is paying attention. Never, though, have I heard him argue with such fire and determination as when he was trying to convince the Council to let you stay. He **wants** you here, Ginny, in this house and in his life. Don't overthink it."

"How can I?" Ginny scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Thinking is not my strong suit."

Nell began to speak, but sighed quietly instead, shaking her head. She leaned in for one more hug. "I want to see you for your appointment as soon as you get off work tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night." Nell walked backwards and held her hand up in a wave before turning to catch up with her husband, leaving Ginny all alone.

Her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for a few hours and that she also wasn't alone. Not completely, not ever again.

"Alright, you little beast," she told her daughter. "Let's pick out a room first and then I'll get you some dinner."

Going inside after shutting the front door, she grabbed her bag and slowly made her way up the stairs, taking in the creaks her feet made on the steps. At the top, the dimly lit hallway stretched to her left and right, three doors closed and four left open, one of the open ones a bathroom twice the size of the one she had grown up with. Deciding that a quick route to the bathroom might be her best bet, she went to the closest room to it. The darkness of the room was nearly impenetrable. Without thinking, she reached for her wand, only to remember that magic wasn't an option for her now for the next six months.

"Damn it!" she hissed, dropping her bag carefully on the floor. Settling in would have to wait for Harry to get home.

It wasn't until she was in the kitchen, slicing some of Mrs. Nettles' bread for sandwiches that the absurdity really and truly hit her. She was making dinner in the home of the love of her life, waiting for him to come home before she ate and got ready for bed.

How many times had she watched her own mother do that for her father after he had worked late? It was almost like she was Harry's…

The knife slipped, cutting into the skin of her hand. "Ow!" she cried, clutching her hand. Blood trickled steadily out of her palm. While she knew Hastom had provisions for using magic in a medical emergency, she also knew a simple cut did not meet the criteria. Glaring at the wand taunting her from its place on the counter, she grabbed a dishrag and pressed it against the cut, going over to the sink to turn it on. Under the running water, the cut was a little deeper than it first appeared; thin streams of red lined the porcelain. Ginny sighed in annoyance. "Lovely way to end the day."

"What's that now?" Whirling around, she saw Harry standing in the archway, wearing a rumpled white shirt and black trousers and balancing a pair of cardboard boxes. His eyes widened at the sight of her bloody hand and he immediately set the boxes down. "What did you do?"

"It was an accident," she said in a rush, her injured hand becoming a tight fist around the dishrag. There were conclusions that he could easily jump to if she left any room for doubt, that he had jumped to in the past when they were together after her incident in the Gryffindor bathroom and her depression was still a struggle for her. "I was slicing bread and I cut my hand."

He nodded, the tension on his face easing a bit. "Right. Of course."

They stood standing across from each other, uneasiness paralyzing them both. Finally, Ginny's hand started to sting. "Um, do you have any bandages or…"

Harry shook his head slightly and walked over to her. "Here let me fix that." He guided her to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for her to sit on before sitting beside her and pulling out his wand. She unclenched her hand and kept her eyes on it as he wordlessly set aside the bloody rag and healed the gash. "Not liking the no magic bit, are you?" he asked, smiling a little.

"No," she had to laugh quietly. "It hasn't really started out well." She narrowed her eyes as a thought occurred to her. "Hey, how did you manage being an Auror without doing any magic for six months?"

"I asked to handle the majority of the administrative matters in the office during my trial period," he explained. "Processing suspects, interviews, paperwork, extraditions, and the like."

"You must have hated that."

"There are worse things in the world to do. Not many, mind you, but they're out there. Actually, it was beneficial in the long run. I gained a lot of experience in the politics and procedures that go along with being an Auror that I wouldn't have gotten otherwise and now I get my pick of field assignments." He got up from his seat and went to the fridge, pulling out a small, tinfoil wrapped pot, holding it out in front of him. "Chicken curry. I made it this morning after Nell threatened to have certain body parts of mine chopped off if there wasn't food for you in the house." He unwrapped the pot and placed it on the stove to warm magically, cleaning up her messy attempt at dinner with his wand afterwards, and getting drinks and cutlery for them. When the food was warm after a moment, he filled two bowls and served one to her.

"Thank you," she said, inhaling the warm, spicy aroma. She took a bite and smiled widely. "It tastes exactly the same."

Harry dug his spoon in the bowl. "Well, I haven't changed the recipe since the last time you had it."

Their quiet conversation could veer sharply into a screaming match if they stayed on this course so Ginny steered them off the topic. "I don't know how I'll handle six months without magic," she said off handedly.

"It's not as bad as you think it's going to be," Harry told her. "Although, you've been around magic your whole life so it'll probably take you a while to adjust. I had about eleven years of practice so it wasn't too difficult falling back into doing things the Muggle way." He took a long sip of his water. "Nell and Bart didn't want to stay?"

"I sent them home." She looked down at her food, toying with it. "It's strange enough being here without having them do that thing where they talk to each other with their eyes and you have no idea what they're saying, but you know it's about you." She let out a rush of air and raised her eyes to him. "You know?"

He nodded ruefully. "Yeah, I know. It's annoying when they do it to you, but now I find myself doing it with Andromeda about Teddy now that the little bugger understands when we're talking about him."

"He's alright, isn't he?" She felt guilty for not asking before. "Nell mentioned that he had to be calmed down because he was shifting his features?"

"He's fine and he had to be calmed down because he somehow managed to nick his grandmother's wand and bring it to nursery school, where he used it to flood out two bathrooms in the building."

"He didn't?"

"He did and found it so side-splitting hilarious, he began sprouting a purple and green polka-dotted Mohawk, which raised even more eyebrows than the bathrooms. It took three members of the Improper Use of Magic Office to reverse the damage and Obliviate everyone involved. I think Teddy was walking eight-feet taller the rest of the day. Not to mention the three-plus hours it took for that blasted Mohawk to go away."

Ginny smiled at the perverse sense of pride ghosting at the corners of Harry's frown. "Well, it's official then."

"What's that?"

"Teddy Lupin is most certainly the son of a Marauder," she told him, "and there's not anything that can be done about it. Don't worry. I'm sure Remus and Tonks are smiling about it somewhere."

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, fighting back his own smile without much success. "Yeah, I suppose so." He met her eyes and studied her unerringly, even as she tore her own gaze away to look down at the remnants of her dinner. "Can I ask you something?" he finally inquired.

"Sure."

He didn't speak again for a moment until he eventually blurted out, "Why didn't you want to move in right away? Why did you wait almost four days?"

She shook her head, rubbing her hand across the back of her neck. Was he really that thick? "Meredith was here," she explained as patiently as she could. "I didn't feel comfortable being here around her and I'm positive she'd say the same about me." She picked up her bowl and walked to the sink with it to rinse it out. "What's going to happen when she comes next month?"

"What do you mean?"

Ginny tamped down her frustration as best she could. "I mean that I don't think that your girlfriend would appreciate seeing me when she's trying to spend time with you." She glared at him over her shoulder when he answered her with silence. "Have you even thought about it all?"

"I don't let myself," he admitted to the wall in front of him. "Every time I tried to after you told me you wanted to stay, I couldn't find a solution that wouldn't involve someone getting hurt. I finally just stopped trying because I don't like feeling like a failure."

"Coward," she scoffed softly, turning back to the sink.

"Yes, I am."

"I can't leave Hastom for the next six months and you can. Maybe…maybe you can go and visit her, like you were doing in New York. That might be the best thing."

"She doesn't have a place in New York or anywhere for that matter. She's always off teaching or excavating or visiting her family. Usually she's not in one spot for more than a month or two."

"Well, then get a hotel room wherever she ends up," she tried, not letting her mind form a picture of Harry and Meredith alone in a hotel room together. It wouldn't be polite to spew out the lovely meal he had made for her into the sink.

"They're expensive."

"You have money."

"And I have a home." She heard him get up from the table and walk to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Butterbeer. "You may not understand, seeing as you've always had one, but for those of us who grew up without homes, we tend to like to stay in them once we get them."

His logic infuriated her to no end. "For goodness sakes, Harry!" She threw the wet rag into the sink and leaned against the counter, struggling to keep a tight grip on her control. "I'm trying to find a solution to this; I would appreciate it if you helped a little bit!"

She heard a clunk as he set the bottle down roughly on the counter and listened as he took in several deep breaths before he spoke again in a low voice. "If she comes here, you're hurt. If she doesn't come here, she's hurt. If I feel forced out of my own home, then I resent you both and that hurts me and the two of you all in one shot." He waited for her reply, but she had none. "Do you see why I finally just gave up?"

_The spineless git does have a point_, she conceded.

"This," she said to him instead, "won't just undo itself if it gets ignored. We're not third and fourth years, making a mess out of relationships just for the heck of it. We need to grit our teeth and be adult about the situation. If we all work together, sit down and talk it out, we can find a solution we can all live with for six months. Right?"

"Okay," he said. "Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"That wasn't what I was going to ask you before. It was on my mind, but it wasn't the question I really wanted to ask."

"Well, what was?" She went to the stove and picked up the pot of leftover curry. "Keep it or bin it?"

"Keep. I'll bring it in to work for Ron." He got a few containers of his cupboard, smiling a little. "I tried to explain trash compactors to him one day. Why, I don't know, but he just kept looking at me like I was speaking gibberish. 'A thing to throw wasted food into? How do you keep food long enough to waste it?'" Harry took the pot and spooned the food into the containers. "Do you, uh, want me to break the news to him about, you know, you living here and all?"

"No," she said at once, going to get the other dish and silverware to wash them out. "Thank you, though."

Their elbows almost touched, standing next to each other as they were. "Are you afraid to tell them?"

"A little. You should talk. Luna's the only one who knows you live here."

"Coward, remember? Look, if a face-to-face is what you're worried about, I can bring in letters to Ron for him and the rest of your brothers. Might be easier that way."

"I'll think about it. Just…later. Let me start working so I can tell them that even though I'm unmarried and pregnant, I at least have a job. Although it might not even register when they hear about Hastom."

"I think," he started, putting the leftovers in the fridge, "that if they see that you're happy here, whatever prejudices they have about Hastom won't matter."

"The same applies to you about them, you know," she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "So was that it? The question you wanted to ask me before?"

"No." Slowly, he closed the fridge but stayed standing in front of it. "You just…when you mentioned Remus, it made me think of how…how he isn't here to see Teddy and I couldn't help but to think about….well…" He stuffed his hands into his pockets, bracing his back against the fridge. "It just made me think about the father of your baby."

"Oh." Shutting the water off slowly, she looked out of the tiny window over the sink, finally grateful that Nell had given her a small hint that this subject would come up sooner rather than later. It was time to face this once and for all.

_I will be strong_, she ordered silently. _I will not leave him any room to doubt my and I will make him believe me._

She wasn't looking forward to having to lie to Harry again. It was for his own good, but still. It didn't leave a pleasant taste in her mouth. At least this time she had been preparing for it over the last few weeks, practicing the words out loud in her room, cocooned around Silencing spells until her she was able to say the carefully chosen words without falling apart. Her story was well-rehearsed and would (hopefully) fool everyone in her life that it needed to fool.

She would have rather tried it out on someone other than Harry, though.

"We talked about it, briefly, in New York, but not since then."

"No, we haven't."

"It was…mentioned during your petition."

"I remember."

"And I realized then that in the month and a half since New York and now, you still haven't told me who the father is."

The anxiety was making her blood run faster than a speeding train. She fought to keep her voice steady.

"No, I haven't told you who the father is," she said simply, peeling her eyes from the window to his penetrating ones. "And please don't try to go around me and ask Nell again. She could lose her license if she tells, which we both know she won't, and you could lose a few teeth if you pester her with it."

"Fine, I'll leave her out of it. But Ginny," he pushed himself off the fridge and moved closer to her, "you don't understand what I know and what Teddy knows, what it is to not have a dad."

"How does that compare to my child? Her father isn't dead."

"Exactly! My father and Remus died and lost the chance to watch me and Teddy grow up. Who-whoever," he gestured wildly at her midsection, "is responsible for that baby gave up being in their child's life by choice. That isn't fair to your kid. Nor is it fair leaving you alone to deal with all the burdens of parenthood. I see what that does to Andromeda sometimes and you have no idea what-"

"I know what I'm doing!" she whispered harshly.

"No, you don't. You have no clue about the job you have ahead of you or what your baby is going to have to live with not knowing their father!" Positively growling in anger at his assumptions (and the truth lurking underneath them), she spun around for the archway, intent on getting away from him. He beat her to the exit and blocked her path with his body. "I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! That…That was out of line."

"Yes, it was."

"It's just that...you're what, a little over three months along?" She nodded. "So you'll probably still be living here when the baby is born and..." He rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "That's not it. Honestly, I just don't know what kind of man can willingly leave their child behind. It makes no sense to me. I didn't mean to upset you."

"This subject, as I've told you before, is a bit upsetting to me." She sighed in despair, folding herself into one of the kitchen chairs, setting her chin in her hand and using her other hand to twirl the salt shaker between her fingers. Harry joined her and she thought hard for a moment to put her thoughts into words she could say out loud to him without any dire consequences to his public image. "My daughter is going to miss out on things in life. Some of those things will probably be material, like brand-new clothes and toys, but those sorts of things kids can live without. I did and so did you for that matter. Living without a loving father, though…I don't know even if all of the love I have for her is going to be enough to make up for what she's losing. I hate thinking about it so I try not to."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at her. "Coward," he whispered.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Is it Lionel's baby? I know he's the only one-"

"For your information," she began, wishing she could cross her fingers for good luck, "he was not the only one I was with. Most of the time, yes, he and I were together. Not always, though. He isn't the father."

Dead silence and then Harry asked, in a much tighter voice, "Who then?"

She forced herself to remember that little vial of Lionel's and all the shameful memories the orange potion inside it had stolen from her. That had to be at the forefront of her mind for her to pull this off successfully.

"I don't know," Ginny lied, proud at how level she had kept her voice. She tugged her eyes from the spinning salt shaker to Harry's face. It was clear he was fighting for neutrality, but it was a losing battle.

"What are you talking about?"

"I traveled a lot with Quidditch and the…the relationship Lionel and I had was more…open than I let on to my family and friends." Her script sounded good so far to her ears; to Harry's as well if the slightly nauseous look that came over him was any indication. She hurried to finish. "Because I played in a lot of the same towns, some of the…the flings I had were more regular than others. But sometimes…sometimes they were more one time only-"

Harry held up a shaking hand, looking over her shoulder rather than at her. "I get the picture," he said hoarsely.

"So that was when I conceived the baby, during one of those….encounters," she spit out, reminding herself of all the terrible and deeply personal things Harry had once felt safe enough to tell her. It had helped him then and hurting him now, as she was apparently doing, was also helping him.

Even if he could never know it.

"After I found out, I tried to find him, but he hadn't given me his real name. I waited for a couple of days at the hotel where we…met up on the off-chance he would come back and he actually did. Only this time, he was wrapped around another woman and he had a wedding ring on that matched hers. I thought-and still think-that the best thing to do for everyone was to raise the baby by myself. So, here we are.

"For obvious reasons, I'm not proud of what happened. I know how much this going to hurt to my family when they find out, how disappointed my parents are going to be in me, and how ashamed of me my brothers will be. How this baby came into my life, I can't change and I don't want to. She saved me from myself and the selfish person I was. You're right when you said that it isn't fair that she won't have a father, but I think it would be crueler for her to have a father like that man in her life."

Harry looked almost in a daze. "None of this," he whispered, rubbing a tired hand across his face, "sounds like you. It doesn't sound like the girl I knew and you…you don't do those kinds of things, Ginny."

"We've been a part for three years. I changed and I'm sure you did as well." She cleared her throat, deciding to give him a little bit of truth. "I…I felt awful over how I ended things with you. There was a part of me that I suppose almost needed to punish myself for…for lying to you then."

"And you're not lying now, about any part of your story?"

She sniffed quietly and looked into his eyes; the green eyes that used to look at her and make her feel that no greater force in the world existed besides his love.

"No," Ginny said without a quiver or tremble.

_I'm protecting you the only way I know how_, she added to herself.

He looked troubled and achingly, terribly sad. It reminded her of standing by his side at all those funerals, understanding instinctively that he was thinking to himself of all the ways he could have saved the poor soul being put into the ground. Hopefully, like that tremendous sense of guilt, his disappointment in her would fade over time, as would his desire to try to find the baby's father.

With any luck, her story had effectively stamped out that urge completely.

Harry suddenly looked suspicious, a thought forming. His face turned to stone and his hands clenched into fists. She tensed in response, bracing herself. "Do you swear to me, Ginny, that you're not protecting Lionel Dresden from his responsibilities by telling this story about how you got pregnant?"

_Damn Aurors! Always looking for a way to doubt someone they're interrogating._

"No, I'm not," she said. That was true. She was protecting Harry, not Lionel.

"Swear to me," he demanded, his eyes nailing her to her seat, "on your baby's life that Lionel isn't the father."

_Ah, a test. Alright, Potter. I can play this game, too._

"Am I your friend, Harry?"

Her question broke through his anger and his posture relaxed. He considered her carefully for a long moment. "Of course you are," he said in a softer voice.

"Then if that's true, who her father is is irrelevent. The only thing that should matter to you is that I am the mother of this baby."

They sat together in silence for long time; a clock was ticking somewhere in the house and she lost count of the minutes after fifteen or so. There was no need any more to speak and yet, she couldn't pull herself out of the chair and away from him.

"This isn't right," Harry finally said, leaning back into his chair and folding his hands against the back of his head. "This isn't how ou-" He swallowed back his bitterness. "How **your** life should have been. This isn't how you should be expecting your first child."

"No it isn't," she agreed. "If you asked me when I was a girl if this is how I envisioned becoming a mother, I would have said no. Even a year ago, I would have never believed it. But this is the path my life is on now and I accept it. I will have my baby daughter, and I will love her with every beat my heart has left."

"I know you will." He came forward in the chair and put one of his hands on the table close to hers, only a breath away from touching it. "And...if you can find it inside you to let me, I'd…I'd like to help you."

She smiled gratefully."You are helping me, in a way I can never repay. There's nothing else you need to do. I couldn't ask for a better friend, Harry."

For some reason, his smile looked sad. "I'll do as much you'll allow me to." He turned to stand quickly and Ginny had to hold herself back from reaching for his hand. Walking to the archway, he bent and picked up one of the boxes he had brought in earlier, setting it in front of her. "Speaking of help, I figured you'd appreciate this."

She peeked inside and gasped out loud. "Oh Harry!"

All of her belongings from Luna's apartment sat inside: Her photo albums, the rest of her books, the old quilt her mother had knit, her old Harpies jersey, and…

With shaking hands, she reached inside and pulled out a frame. Inside, a pair of magical flowers preserved by enchantments looked back her. The Arcus Violets her parents had given her. She caught a quick glimpse of her watery eyes in the frames reflection.

"You got my things for me."

"It took forever to get them after Teddy got straightened out. I had to wait for Luna to come home and then there was a very detailed discussion of some creature I truly hope only exists in Luna's imagination." He smiled a little. "I just figured you wouldn't feel at home here until you had your flowers."

Hugging those flowers tight against her chest, she felt more at peace than she had in months, in ages really. It might not always stay this way, she knew:

The name Lionel Dresden could come up between them again.

There might be no way for both her and Meredith to coexist diplomatically in Harry's life.

She could screw up her trial and be banned from Hastom forever.

Her family might never forgive her for what she had done or a hundred thousand other terrible things could befall them both.

But right now, standing in his-in **their**-kitchen, she found a way to will her mind to keep all those worries at bay.

"Yes," she told him, smiling, "you're right. Now it's home."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Ah, the power of positive thinking. I wanted this up by the beginning of December and thus it came to be. First and foremost, thanks to my betas. You guys work amazingly fast. And second, thanks again to all of the loyal readers who make this project so fulfilling for me as a writer. Please enjoy this and let me know what you think.**

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I have some news._

_There has been a new development in my life that-_

_You know how I always said that I wouldn't leave Quidditch for anything?_

Ginny glanced tiredly at the clock by the entrance to the kitchen. The sun would be up soon and she was still no closer to finishing the letter to her parents. Groaning, she laid her head back against the arm of the couch, closed her eyes, and envisioned the words she really wanted to put on the parchment:

_Dear Loving Parents Who Are About to be Completely Blindsided,_

_Not only did I manage to become both homeless and unemployed in the span of a few days, the reason for both of those is that I'm pregnant._

_That's right your baby girl is having a baby girl of her own. Your little Gin-Gin is thoroughly and totally knocked up, her innocence lost as it has been for some time. Aren't you so proud, Dad?_

_And good news, Mum! The baby's father isn't involved and it's not because he's lying in a grave, but because he is a plague upon decency and wants nothing to do with us. How wonderful!_

_So to review, your only daughter is:_

_Unemployed_

_Unwed _

_And unaccompanied in life by the father of her child_

_But just to ease your minds a little bit, I am no longer homeless because I have decided to live in Hastom for the rest of my life. No, your eyes do not deceive you. Gin-Gin is going to live in the place where trolls go to eat their young, where deadly Inferi sprout up from the ground, and where every unspeakable horror known to man and wizard exists._

_(Although, I should point out that you were misinformed when you told us that little witches and wizards who didn't eat every lima bean on their dinner plates were sent to Hastom to eat beans until their bellies burst open.) _

_And did I also mention the very best part? I'll be sharing a home (and a loo) with none other than Harry Potter for the next six months!_

_Looking forward to the flock of Howlers already making their way to me,_

_Ginny_

She lifted her head and stared down at her stomach, pushing the fabric of her t-shirt up slightly to reveal the tiny bump that was her baby.

"What do you think, sweetheart? A little too on the nose, perhaps?" Her fingers glided over the impossibly smooth skin protecting her child. "I rather think it would be easier for your Gran to hear it all at once instead of dispensing it out piece by piece. That way she'd only have one humungous explosion of anger as opposed to a dozen or so little ones." Ginny made a small circular pattern over the swell, still a bit surprised to find that it had seemingly popped out from nowhere a few days ago. "And don't fret over your Granddad having a weak constitution for news like this. He's no shrinking violet. The man has been married to Molly Weasley for over thirty years. If that's not a feat of strength, I don't know what is." She turned her head to the side, spreading her fingers against the bump. "I know he can handle hearing about you; I just hope he doesn't…" She couldn't say the words out loud.

Ginny sighed, shifting to sit so her back was against the armrest and setting the pile of mostly-blank parchment on the coffee table. The sunlight slowly began filtering into the room, making the stones of the fireplace sparkle. The dark living room came to life around her.

_It's such a lovely home_, she thought for what felt like the thousandth time in the three weeks she had been there. _A girl could get used to living here._

The floorboards above her began to creak and the sound of footsteps lumbering down the stairs followed. She hastily pulled her shirt back down. Ginny sat up to see Harry descending, tousling his bedhead even further.

"Morning," he tried to say around a loud yawn, his eyes barely open.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

He grunted, shuffling into the kitchen. Cupboard doors opened and closed, the faucet turning on and off. A whistle shrieked loudly for a moment and then stopped. Afterwards, Harry reappeared in the living room, carrying two steaming teacups. He handed one to Ginny before sitting in the chair across from her, propping his sock-covered feet on the coffee table, and slumping down into the cushions. "It's decaf," he mumbled.

"Thank you."

"Welcome." He took a sip from his mug and made a face. "How on earth can you stand to drink this poison?"

"You should have made a pot for just you."

"Sunrise is not conducive to my ability to think." Grimacing a little, he took another drink. "But really, how can you stomach this stuff?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, tucking her legs underneath her. "It's like anything I guess: You find a way to get used to it."

Which was something she had been surprised to find was easy to do when it came to sharing a house with Harry.

Of course, there had been a few bumps in the road: the time Ginny's lacy underthings had been left hanging in the bathroom or Harry's penchant for blasting the wireless throughout the house late some nights or a dozen other of their individual quirks that they had picked up over the years of living on their own. Harry had never shared a home with a woman since leaving the Dursley's and Ginny refused to acknowledge her time with Lionel as cohabitation. If she dwelled on it, her two years in his apartment made her feel dirty, like her living with him had been almost a payment for her…services. It was humiliating, but she had come to accept over the past two months what their relationship had actually been and the benefit from it had far outweighed the pain. Now, she was focused on the present and making her living situation with Harry as comfortable for both of them as possible. They were still learning after almost a month together and there were still moments, for both of them it seemed, when the absurdity of the whole thing stifled them for a moment or two. There was nothing scary enough, though, that sent either of them running for the hills.

Slowly, Harry peeled his eyes open, taking another sip of his poison. "What are you doing up so early? I thought your appointment with Nell wasn't until eleven?"

"It is." She nudged the parchment with her toes. "I was trying to take your advice and write to my parents. Tell them about everything's that happened. It's just a lot harder to do than I imagined."

"What's so difficult? You say that you have a new job, a new place to live, and you're going to be a mum." He shut his eyes again and rested his head against the side of the armchair. "Easy peasy."

"Oh, you're right. That is quite simple." She set her tea down on the side table next to her. "Now try to figure out how I'm going to tell **my** mother all of that and not the calm, rational woman you're thinking of."

Harry chuckled softly, keeping his eyes closed. "Point taken."

"Honestly," she said, all teasing gone, "I'm more worried about telling my dad than my mum. Don't get me wrong, my mum will go off her rocker and I can already hear how loud she'll screech the words 'scarlet woman' when she finds out, but Dad…" She sighed and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What?" Ginny glanced over and found Harry a bit more awake, studying her curiously. "What about your father."

She thought before she answered. "Do you remember when we were in Professor Dumbledore's office after you rescued me from the Chamber, with Ron and my parents?"

"Of course."

"That was the first time my father ever yelled at me, about the diary and not telling him about it. He wasn't angry with me, just scared of what could have happened. I know that now. But at that time, I was only eleven years old and I had disappointed my daddy. That feeling…it almost made me wish, for a second or two, that you hadn't found me in time." She stared down at the parchment scribbled with her attempts to come clean to her parents. "I was his princess for as long as I could remember. Even without much money, he doted on me as best he could. Every summer when I was a girl, on my birthday, we'd walk down into town together to get an ice cream, just me and him. He'd get the cheapest thing he could for himself, but I could always get a sundae, with toppings and extra sprinkles. When I turned five, we walked by the toy shop and I saw the most beautiful doll in the world." She smiled brightly, turning to face Harry again. "She was porcelain with delicate rosy cheeks, long black hair and the softest blue pinafore dress in the world. I pressed my hands and face up the glass and fell in love before my heart broke the next minute. Even that young, I knew we couldn't afford something as expensive as that doll. My dad pulled me away gently and let me get a sundae and an iced lolly that day to try to make up for it. I didn't forget the doll, though. Not for a single day. I even named her Anastasia in my mind. And do you know what? That Christmas, Anastasia was all wrapped for me, waiting underneath the tree. I hugged her so tightly I'm amazed she didn't shatter to pieces in my arms. The boys all got amazing presents too that year: Bill and Charlie both got new brooms; Percy got a cauldron and his first potions kit; the twins each got a bagful of Zonko's tricks; and Ron got a replica Cannons uniform and tickets to his first game. It wasn't until years later, we found out what he did to get the money for the gifts."

"What did he do?"

"He went to St. Mungo's and…and signed up to be a test subject for treatments for new curses. They'd launched spells at him and then experiment to see which potions worked the best to heal him. He did that three days a week for a whole month in addition to working extra shifts at the Ministry. All that for two hundred and fifty Galleons that he spent on presents for his children."

"Sounds dangerous," Harry said softly.

Ginny nodded vigorously, swiping a stray tear away. "It was. He was so lucky that there weren't any long-term side effects. I don't know how Mum let him go through that just for presents for us. She never did afterwards, not for anything, even school tuition. With her, she was always the one that doled out the punishment. It never felt good to make her angry, but that was what we expected of her. We knew how much she loved us and that we'd be forgiven eventually. Dad has been the steady one, the one who always took it with a grain of salt if we ended up on the roof or splattered paint all over the kitchen. If you did enough to make him upset, you knew you had done something awful. That's how I saw it."

Harry nodded in understanding. "And if you tell him about what's happened in the last couple of months with you…"

"I don't think I could bear it if I made him ashamed of me," she admitted quietly.

"That would never happen," Harry assured her. "He'll…He'll be upset, naturally, because-"

"Because I've made every mistake that life has to offer."

"Because you were suffering and he couldn't help you. That's what will crush him," Harry said stoically, looking away from her wide eyes for a second before looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head slightly and continuing much quieter, "He loves you, very much, and he only wants good things for you. Maybe it'll take him time to come around, but he'll see that being here and becoming a mum makes you happy. Happier than he ever thought he'd see you." He looked back at her and smiled a little. "It wasn't the plan he had for you in his head. It wasn't how he wanted your life to turn out. It may even frustrate him to no end and make him angry at the world for letting this happen. In the end, though, you're one of the biggest pieces of his heart and he'll find a way to support you through this."

Ginny sniffled, feeling the all too familiar burn behind her eyes. Tears weren't far off.

_Oh Harry_, she thought, wishing she could conjure a handkerchief for herself. _You are the most amazing…amazing friend anyone could ask for. Why did I push you-No! No, that thinking is not appropriate, Ginevra! He is seeing someone else, he is happy, I am a guest in his home, and for the last time, he is seeing someone else. It doesn't matter how better I feel when he says exactly what I need to hear or how sweet it is when he lets me have the last slice of pudding or how much we laughed last week when Bart tried to explain that ludicrous game of baseball to us. You CANNOT think of him as anything more than a friend! That's all he wants you to be and you should be thanking every star in the sky that he'll give you that much after what you did to him._

If only her heart could listen to her head.

She had naively told herself for so long that she was over Harry and done her best to not let him creep into her thoughts that being around him every day was a bit of a shock to her system. Every day was a reminder of what a wonderful person he was and almost everything he did made the love she felt for him, suppressed and neglected for three long years, swell up inside her until she was afraid it would steal her breath away. Some nights, sitting across from him at the dinner table or secretly watching from the couch with a book in her hand as he Flooed Teddy, the words hammered in her head to the beat of her pulse. Her fingers itched to reach for his hand or run through his fringe. They almost cramped up with the force she used to hold them back. It got to be so much sometimes that she had to leave the room or she wouldn't be able to stop herself from launching into his arms and sealing her lips to his.

She couldn't though. For one, he would never-could never-feel that way about her after she hurt him the way she did.

For another, he was taken. Their meeting hadn't been under the best of circumstances, but Ginny knew, from all the things she'd heard of her, that Meredith was a good person. She had been with Harry for so long and it now appeared that he was choosing Ginny's friendship and citizenship over their relationship. It had to be a terrible feeling. It wasn't true, of course. Harry loved Meredith; Bart had flat out told Ginny so the night Mr. Chornin died. If it came down to a final choice between the two of them, Ginny was sure she'd be the one left by the wayside. And that was…well, not fine, but understandable. A person was truest to the one they loved the most. Meredith would realize that soon enough and in the meantime, Ginny would not add to her or Harry's burden by making the situation they were in even more uncomfortable than it had to be.

The second reason for keeping silent bled right into her third. Because Harry would choose Meredith over her, it would mean Ginny would have to leave Hastom and the life it would offer her baby. This place offered Iris the best chance possible at a happy life, safe from the danger and darkness of the outside world. Growing up, she had seen firsthand that one thing required of a good mother was sacrifice and even if it meant swallowing back her feelings for Harry, Ginny was determined that her daughter would know the wonders of Hastom through her own eyes and not stories from Ginny and Luna.

She would find a way to be content in having only Harry's friendship.

No matter how difficult it was at times.

Like now, for instance.

Ginny forced her lips to curl into a small smile as the tears started to slide down her cheeks. "I…I can't stand being pregnant sometimes," she finally managed to say. "I feel like such a girl." With a loud snort, she wiped her nose with the shoulder of her shirt.

Harry's grin widened. "Really? You hide it well." Pulling out his wand, he conjured her a box of tissues.

"Shut it," she laughed, feeling some of her tension ease as she dabbed her eyes. "I just mean that my ruddy, uncontrollable hormones are wreaking havoc on me and I do not appreciate it one bit. This baby truly tries my patience sometimes."

"Then she's definitely her mother's daughter." Quickly pushing himself up from the chair, he collected their teacups and walked towards the kitchen. Ginny followed him.

"I can make breakfast," she told him, going to pull out some eggs from the refrigerator.

He turned from the sink, eying her quizzically. "Since when?"

"I will have you know, Potter, that I have taught myself to make a very delicious omelet. Ron has raved about my cooking to me."

"That's not saying much, considering I once saw Ron pull a sandwich out of the rubbish bin at work and it eat, even though it had a red blob on it than I cannot say for sure was ketchup."

Ginny rolled her eyes even as her heart ached a little. One other aspect of being around Harry so much was how much it was making her miss her own family. He was so intertwined with memories of her parents and brothers that it brought their faces to the forefront of her mind. She wanted to joke and laugh with her brothers every day and feel her father's heartbeat as he pulled her in for a tight squeeze. Mostly, she wanted her mother.

There were so many questions she had for Molly now: Was all this crying normal? Why was the smell of cooked beef unbearable to her? Why were some of her freckles getting darker? How much would labor really hurt? How would she know what Iris was crying for? How could she take care of a baby when she could barely take care of herself? Every day, a hundred new questions presented themselves that Ginny couldn't find a suitable answer for. Her mother could, though, if she were here.

But she wasn't. She was traveling the world with her husband and enjoying time away from motherhood after more than thirty years of attending to her children's' every need. And her mother deserved it, every second of it, as did her dad. That was another reason why Ginny found it so hard to tell her parents about the pregnancy. They should be out enjoying their time together instead of fretting over the impending motherhood of their youngest.

"You," she told Harry, cracking eggs into a bowl to help keep her melancholy at bay, "should go get ready for work. It's Friday. Don't you have to be in early today?"

"Yeah, but-wait, how did you know that?" He shut the water off and looked at her again.

"You told me that starting this Friday, you'd go into work early and take half days at the end of the week because the Quidditch league here is starting up and you scheduled practices to…" Harry kept staring at her uncomprehendingly and she felt unsure. "What? Do I have egg on my face or something?"

"No, no. It's just…I didn't think you'd remember, that's all." His eyes lit up and he grinned. "Hey, do you want to come?"

"Where?"

"To practice. It's perfect, actually. You could help me coach and that could fill your community volunteer work requirement. And the kids would get…" His smile slipped and his shoulders sank. "Wait, no. That'll be too hard for you, won't it? I'm such a git. You just had to give up playing Quidditch and now I expect you to-"

"No," she cut him off, picking up a whisk and beating the eggs. "That's…that's a nice thought, Harry. It really is. I'd love to see you work with the children and…and be around them myself, too." The whisk slashed through and around the mixture as Ginny tried to put a voice to her thoughts. "To help coach a team, though, it might be…"

"Too hard right now," Harry finished, "when it's still so fresh."

She nodded, grateful he understood. "Exactly."

"Well, how about this? You come to the field today, after your appointment, and you just watch for a bit. If you can't take it, then you come back here and we find another community project for you to help with. But if it's not and you see that there's something you can do to help us climb out of third place, then by all means jump in and get your hands dirty."

That sounded fair to her ears. "Okay. I'll be there." She headed over to the stove with her bowl.

"Uh, Gin?" Turning, she saw Harry holding up a skillet with one hand.

Looking at the empty stove, her cheeks turned bright red. With her head held high, she walked over to Harry and took the skillet graciously. "This is much easier with magic."

"I'll take mine with Swiss cheese, if it's not too much trouble," he said walking backwards out of the kitchen. At the entrance, he spoke again. "And Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"Helps if the stove is turned on." He smiled with his whole face and headed back upstairs.

"You're a prat sometimes, Harry Potter," she said to herself when she was absolutely sure he was completely out of earshot, "But I do love you."

It wasn't the same as saying the words to his face, but it was better than keeping them bottled inside.

Later that afternoon, Ginny lay back on the exam table in Nell's cozy office, swinging her legs back and forth idly as she waited for her friend to come in the room. It was the first ultrasound today, the first look she'd get at the little person growing inside her, and she found it difficult to contain her excitement.

She propped an arm behind her head and looked at her stomach through the hole in the thin gown she wore. "You would think being good friends with my healer would have its perks. Surprisingly, it does not. She's still going to keep me in her office alone, fifteen minutes after my appointment is supposed to start even when the waiting room was empty upon arrival. Maybe that's just something they drill into your head when you become a healer. Maybe even-"

The door creaked open and Nell crept in. "Sorry," she apologized quietly. "So sorry about that. I just…I got caught up in some paperwork." Without really looking at Ginny, she went to the cupboard and started pulling things out in preparation for the exam.

"That's fine," Ginny said, still swinging her legs a little. "A healer's job is not complete unless her patient has been kept waiting for a few extra minutes. We were having a little chat about that before you walked in."

Nell barely glanced over her shoulder. "Who were you talking to?"

Ginny patted her bare belly and smiled. "One of many mother and daughter chats we've been having. This baby is a really excellent listener." She narrowed her eyes slightly, stilling her legs. "That's not weird, is it? I mean, other women talk to their unborn babies, right?"

The healer's face tightened sharply for barely a second before schooling itself. "Yes, I've seen some patients do that. Everyone's different, I suppose." Nell turned away, keeping her back to her friend. Ginny studied her carefully, noting how tense her shoulders seemed and how quiet she was being. "How have you been feeling lately? Anything unusual you want to discuss?"

"The nausea has gone away for the most part," Ginny said slowly, "except when I'm around beef so I just try to avoid the stuff. I'm not as tired anymore either. There are a few freckles on my shoulders that are getting darker, though."

"It's a hormone increase. If you avoid staying out in the sun or use sunblock, it'll stop. The skin will lighten again after you…you give birth," Nell replied clinically, still not facing Ginny. "Have you had any cramping or spotting?"

"None. Nell, is everything al-?"

"Legs in the stirrups, please." Nell turned and helped Ginny place her legs in the strange metal contraptions. The quill and Ginny's chart hovered nearby. "This will be quick, but a little uncomfortable. There are some things we can't do with magic." Avoiding her eyes, Nell performed the physical examination as swiftly as possible while Ginny winced against her probing fingers. When it was finished, Nell removed her gloves and did a thorough Cleaning Charm on her hands. Biting her lip, she placed her cleans hands on Ginny's stomach and felt it gently, her mouth set and eyes straight ahead. "Uterus feels healthy," she said to herself. Taking out her wand, she waved it over Ginny slowly, studying the colors that appeared over her form as she did.

_What's going on? _Ginny thought, flabbergasted at her friend's behavior.

This wasn't the Nell Nixon she had come to think of as a sister over the past month and a half. This woman wasn't filling up the room with her brightness and spirit; this woman wasn't joking with her about how fat her ankles were going to get in the coming months; this woman didn't look ready to lend a sympathetic ear to the problems, however grave or minute, Ginny faced on a daily basis.

This was someone else entirely.

"Nell," she tried again, growing worried, "is there something that you want to talk about?"

"Shh!" Nell replied quickly. "I'm trying to concentrate." She looked away to see the notes the quill was making.

An icy hand wrapped itself around Ginny's lungs and fear overwhelmed her. Vaguely, she registered some of the colors near her chest darken from pink to crimson. In a near panic, she blurted out, "Is the baby alright?" Her hand automatically went to her belly, a million shards of agony stabbing at her heart.

Her friend whipped towards her, mouth hanging open in shock, a hint of her true self peeking through the cool exterior. "Of course it's alright! Why would you think something like that?"

"Because of how you're acting!" Ginny sank onto the bed in relief, her racing pulse slow to calm down even as the crimson hue that represented her heart faded. Anger flared in the pit of her stomach as she thought of what her friend's behavior had just put her through. "What on Earth is going on with you today? Did something happen with Bart or to you? If you tell me, I can try to help."

Guilt washed over the other woman's face. Nell's lips moved up and down, aching to say something, but before they could, the healer looked back at her chart and continued moving the wand over her patient. "Everything is fine. Your...the fetus is in perfect health and-"

"The baby!" At her wit's end, Ginny leapt forward and took her stunned friend by the shoulders, shaking her a bit. "The baby, Nell! It's not a fetus, it's the firstborn child of one of your best friends. It's the baby that you've been helping me take care of all this time, the same baby who wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you being in Healer Smythe's office that day." Ginny's anger and face softened as Nell's began to crumble. "Please, I beg of you. Just tell me what happened so I can help you sort it all out."

The sob escaped Nell's throat before her hand could trap it in her mouth. Another followed it and the tears followed immediately. Burying her head in Ginny's shoulder, she cried painfully.

"Oh, dear girl," Ginny whispered, wrapping her arms around Nell and swallowing her own tears back. There was no time for them now.

It was her turn to be the strong one in this friendship.

Maneuvering Nell to sit beside her, Ginny pulled her close and let her cry without interruption. She stroked her braided brown hair and rocked her side to side, murmuring words of comfort into her ear, hoping that some of them were getting through.

Finally, after a short time that felt like hours, Nell's cries began to ease a bit. She slowly lifted herself from Ginny's shoulder and took in a few shuddering breaths.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry. That was so abhorrently unprofessional of me."

Ginny plucked a tissue from the counter next to her and carefully wiped away the moisture from the other woman's face. "I promise to forgive you if you tell me what's wrong."

Nell hung her head down. "It's too hard to say out loud."

"I beg your pardon?" Ginny tilted her friend's chin back up with her fingers. "Do I need to list the things you've pulled out of me that I had no interest in discussing with anyone else? Take your own advice and talk about whatever is going on. You'll be amazed at how much better you feel."

Grasping her hand tightly, Nell turned her red-rimmed eyes to Ginny. "I-I'm angry with you right now and…and I don't want to be," she admitted shamefully. "So now I'm just pissed as hell at myself."

"Why? What did I do to upset you so much?" Ginny wracked her brain to find an answer, but couldn't see a clear one.

"That," Nell replied, looking down at Ginny's stomach before pulling her eyes away and prattling, "You get to have a ba-baby and I don't and I am mad at you for that, except I'm really not. I just want to be because it's easier to be angry at you than it is to hate the person I really want to, which is utterly irrational and unfair to you and if you want to find a new healer, I can speak to the Council and arrange for you to-"

"Wait, wait. Slow down" Ginny held up her hand to stop her rambling. "Go back a sentence or two. What do you mean I get to have a baby and you don't?"

"Precisely that."

Ginny cursed Fate for dealing such a wonderful woman a cruel hand. "You mean you and Bart can't…?" She trailed off, uncertain of what words were appropriate to use. "There's nothing magical that can help either of you with, uh, what the physical…issue is?" Nell began chuckling to herself and shaking her head back and forth. "What? What did I say wrong? You're the expert here, not me. I've always been a bit squeamish in this area."

Her laughter faded into a sigh. "That's the funny thing," she said, her voice stronger and clearer, the Nell that Ginny had come to hold so dear resurfacing fully. "There is no physical problem. I could probably go home right now, take my husband to bed, and conceive a child with ease. I am just married to someone who has no interest in seeing that happen."

"Bart? Bart doesn't want children?"

"No, he doesn't and that point was made extremely clear to me last night."

"What did he do?"

Rolling her eyes, Nell continued, "I admit some of this mess is my own doing. Before he and I got married, we talked about children and we both said that we wanted to wait a long time, if at all, before we had them. We were both just barely in our twenties when we said our vows and I honestly didn't think I'd want children until I was in my thirties or even my forties. Growing up, I always was more interested in being Healer Thewes –and now Healer Nixon – than I was in being Mummy. Does that make sense?"

"Replace healer with Quidditch star and you and I were in the same boat not that long ago. Go on."

"I mean, I've always loved kids and babies. That's why I made Obstetrics and Pediatrics my two areas of expertise. I just never thought I'd really want any of my own. Then I met Bart; even though I still believed that I wouldn't have any children, this beautiful little boy with Bart's smile and my nose would pop up in my dreams every once in a while." She squeezed Ginny's hand again. "And then I met you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I would see witches in Healer Smythe's office come in with stories or situations a lot like yours sometimes. Nearly every one of them chose to end the pregnancy rather than upset their lives. Not you, though." Slowly, she reached out and put her hand on Ginny's belly, smiling sadly. "You knew that keeping this little one would cause you untold headaches and frustrations and you did it anyways. You loved this baby and wanted it desperately, even in the most imperfect circumstance imaginable and it made me start to think for the first time about how truly perfect my own circumstances were: Wonderful husband, good job, a lovely home. My heart turned a corner and that little boy has been in my dreams countless times since then." She sighed wistfully. "I've tried to ease Bart into considering having children. You know, dropping hints or comments to try to get the conversation started so he didn't feel like I was ambushing him with this. It is quite bit ahead of our schedule, after all. That strategy failed, though. My husband is a bit-"

"Dense?" Ginny volunteered.

"No, not dense," Nell disagreed. "Don't get me wrong, he plays it that way most of the time, but he's a terribly smart bloke. Remember, he was an Infiltrator in the States, and you can't stay alive at that without the brains to back it up. He's just…crafty. He knows how to spin conversations and situations to his advantage to get what he wants. And what he wanted was, apparently, to never discuss having children. Last night, after he got in late from the pub, I finally flat out told him we were going to talk about having a baby. He gaped at me like a landlocked fish for a few seconds before he shut his eyes and started shaking his head; then he grabbed a coat and Apparated away without a word. The look on his face told me everything." She shrugged helplessly. "The man I love more than anything in this life doesn't want to have a child with me."

"Why not? He seems like he would be an amazing father. One of those silly dads that get down on the floor and makes goofy faces for hours on end with their children."

"He does seem like that, doesn't he?" Nell smiled tearfully. "You've seen what a brilliant man his life has molded him into: how outgoing he is, how charming, how protective he is of people he loves. Those are the good things that were born from his upbringing, that's what he lets you see. But I get to see the pain behind it all." She grimaced and shook her head. "Bart had an…unimaginable childhood. Harry's told me about living with the Dursleys and as horrible as they were, I still think Harry was luckier to have them than to have what Bart had."

"Did they abuse him?" Ginny asked, repulsed at the thought.

"Not physically. They abandoned him when he was a little boy. He was completely on his own when he went off to school to study magic. In the States, they send magical children earlier than they do here; Bart went when he turned eight years old. He's had no contact with his parents since then. Can you imagine? Being only eight years old and having no family or home to go back to? Not even a roof and a bed to sleep in?"

"No," she said, leaning her head onto Nell's shoulder tiredly. Nell rested her own head on Ginny's. "I don't like thinking people are capable of something that atrocious."

"Well, they are. My husband's proof enough. If I ever come across them…"

"But why did they leave him in the first place?" It was a struggle for Ginny to understand. She had never held her daughter or seen her face, yet she knew that the only force in the world that could ever cause her to leave Iris behind was Death itself. And it wasn't as if Bart's parents were similar to Lionel; he had cast his daughter aside without even seeing her, but Mr. and Mrs. Nixon (if that was even their surname; perhaps Bart had changed his so that last link to his mother and father was broken) had, it seemed, raised their son for eight long years before pushing him away.

It wasn't natural. It wasn't right.

Parents shouldn't leave their children unless they've got to.

Ginny raised her head to face Nell, hoping for some semblance of a reasonable answer, but Nell only shook her head.

"I've already said too much," she told Ginny. "Bart doesn't like people to know about his past. I think he'd rather just not think of it himself. He wouldn't even talk about it during his petition for citizenship. It almost cost him living in Hastom and he still wouldn't discuss it. To nearly sacrifice living here because he can't come to grips with the fact he's a person whose parents didn't love him is one thing, but to sacrifice a chance for us to have a family…" She slapped the table in a fit, the paper crinkling angrily. "I could wring his neck into knots right now, that cowardly, idiotic-"

"Switzerland." Nell blinked at Ginny, who only shrugged. "It cuts both ways, luv. If Harry and I can't put the two of you in the middle of our messes, it's out of bounds for you as well." She leaned her head against Nell's shoulder again in support. "You need to talk to your husband. Preferably when you've calmed down a touch."

"I know. That won't be easy, though. Bart sent me a letter this morning to tell me he'll be away for a few days, maybe a whole week. Klaus will handle the pub while he's gone."

"What is he doing?"

"He didn't see fit to tell me. I don't even know if he's in the country. He still has a few hidey-holes scattered across the globe from his days as an Infiltrator."

"That's all his letter said? He'll be off somewhere doing something and the German bartender will handle his business affairs?"

"No," Nell whispered. "He also said he was sorry and that he loved me to the ends of the Earth."

Ginny wrapped both arms around Nell's shoulders and pulled her in for a tight squeeze. "You married a very complicated man."

"I did." She clung to Ginny's arm. "We fell in love and we got married. The baby in the pram comes next. That's what's supposed to happen, right?"

"Babies don't do what we think they're supposed to do. They come into our lives at their choosing, whether we're ready for them or not; whether we have everything in order or if we're stumbling through it as we go."

"Wow." Nell pulled away and smiled sadly. "You sound just like a mum." She unwound their bodies and took one of Ginny's hands, giving it a quick kiss on the palm. "You're not bad at this whole friendship business either." Standing up slowly, she put a restraining hand on Ginny's shoulder, easing her back down to lie on the table. "The appointment isn't over yet. One last thing to do."

"No." Ginny tried to sit up only to have Nell push her back down. Like so often happened in her life lately, her heart wanted two different things: she did not want to further cause her good friend any undo pain, but there was such a deep yearning in her soul to see her baby for the first time, to know her child as something more than a barely-there bulge on her stomach. Feebly, she tried to sit again. "We…you don't need to do this today. I can wait until you feel better."

"Oh, Ginny. That's so sweet of you. Remind me, though, where did you train as a healer again? I've completely forgotten."

"Hey, I'm just-"

"I know," the healer said with a small smile, "and I appreciate it, but we really do need to do this. It's time to get a good look at what you're cooking in that oven. Make sure everything is in its proper place and growing on schedule. Okay?" Ginny nodded, hoping that Nell knew what her own limits were.

With her wand, Nell summoned a small glass orb into her free hand. "This is used to store the recording of the image. We can keep filling it the more scans we take. It works the same way as the audio recording of the heartbeat." Giving the orb a tap with the wand tip, she released it and watched it float in place next to her. "There's one more thing before we start: Fourteen weeks is early, but if the baby's in a good position, I might be able to take a guess at the gender. If I can, do you want to know for certain?"

Ginny only shook her head. "There's no need. She's a girl."

"You sound confident."

"I'm not confident, just right. I've known in my heart that she's a girl from the moment I knew I was keeping her. I even know her name."

"Care to share?" Ginny opened her mouth, but something, a strange instinct she didn't understand yet still embraced, held her back. Nell patted her shoulder at the sign of her hesitation. "You don't have to. I was just curious."

"I think," Ginny said slowly, "that…that it's just supposed to be between me and her now."

"That's fine. So if I do get an idea from this viewing if you need blue or pink wallpaper for the nursery, I should keep it to myself?"

"Can you?"

"I've been doing this for years, thank you very much. Lots of parents like to be surprised until the delivery. Though truthfully, when there are only two options, it isn't much of a surprise. I've kept my lips sealed about the question of 'willy or no willy' countless times. Trust me."

"Always," she said simply, relaxing back into the table.

Nell murmured under her breath and traced the tip of the wand from the orb to Ginny's bare stomach. The lights in the room dimmed as the orb glowed bright red and Nell began tracing the wood over Ginny's skin, a cool, tickling sensation washing over her belly. Finally, Nell stopped her motions.

"_Aperio_," she whispered. A foot above Ginny's stomach, a crystal-clear image materialized. All Ginny could make out from her view was a bulbous, nearly-translucent ball. Cupping her hand gently under the bottom of the image, Nell rotated it to allow Ginny to see a full view. "Say hello to Mummy, little one."

A band of Harpies fanatics could have stormed into the room at that moment and Ginny would have been an oblivious sitting duck to their autograph requests. A parliament of owls could have dropped thousand-pound satchels of Galleons at her side and Ginny wouldn't have noticed. Harry could have walked in and knelt down beside her, thrusting a glittering diamond towards her, speaking of his everlasting love for her and all Ginny would have been able to do was tell him to be quiet. The whole of the world was in front of her, so tiny and fragile surrounding a rapid beating heart and…and…

"Is she moving?" Ginny heard herself ask in awe. She watched as the baby stretched her body, no bigger than a clenched fist, and unmistakably flutter her little arms and legs. "She's moving! My baby can move! How come I can't feel her?"

"You will," Nell promised, studying the image closely. "Most first-time mothers don't feel the movement until around eighteen weeks. Just have a little patience." Ginny reached forward and brushed a trembling finger over the back of Iris's wispy head, wishing she could feel her baby's flesh. They both watched as the baby continued to squirm and wiggle. "This baby won't make you wait long. I haven't seen one this active in a long time."

"She's beautiful. So beautiful…" No longer was she an idea or a concept far off in the future or a tiny heartbeat that lulled her to sleep at night, Iris was here in front of her and more real than Ginny had ever imagined her to be.

A door in her soul opened and Ginny walked through it willingly, knowing she'd never be on the other side of it again. She had been so sure she had understood how deeply she could love her child, so sure she knew the capacity of her own heart to feel love and give it freely.

She had been such a fool.

Every day, she fell deeper in love, with both Harry and her daughter, but unlike Harry, she could let the love she felt for her baby flourish and run free as opposed to working every day to constrain it. Looking through clear eyes at the still-growing form of her daughter, Ginny felt the very last invisible restraints chaining her heart fall away, giving it over to Iris completely.

She now truly and totally loved her baby with her whole heart. It was wonderful, awful, exhilarating, terrifying, joyous, and plummeting all the same time.

It was also right.

Mother loved daughter and daughter, in her own nebulous way, hopefully loved mother.

The euphoria of her epiphany was shadowed by the unmistakable flash of pain she glimpsed on Nell's face as the healer looked wistfully at the tiny life in front of her. Placing her hand on Nell's wrist, she clasped it gently.

"He'll find his way to you," she told her friend, not sure if she meant Bart or the little boy haunting Nell's dreams of late. "Just give him some time."

Stepping off the bridge that led to the small wooded island across from Harry's property, Ginny trudged down the dirt path, the sun beating on her back, her head and heart full of pain for her two friends. It was easy to sympathize with Nell's agony over wanting to have a child. How could she not when she understood firsthand the sometimes bliss-like state of being that was becoming a mother? On the other hand, knowing a hint of the horrors that Bart had faced in his early life, it wasn't difficult to argue his side of the case. Someone who may never have known what it was like to receive a kiss or cuddle from his own parents couldn't be expected to be fearless or eager when it came to the subject of having a child of his own.

Ginny hoped they could find a way through this together. It would be a shame if someone as built for motherhood as Nell was denied the chance, but it would be a crime to let a love like the one Nell shared with her husband mutate into something unrecognizable. It wasn't out of the question. Love could morph so easily into darkness if left unchecked.

She understood that firsthand…

_**Ginny glanced around The Three Broomsticks again, hoping that in the last thirty seconds or so, Harry had materialized in the Saturday afternoon lunch crowd. It was the February Hogsmeade weekend and they had plans to spend the day together. **_

_**With company, of course. **_

"_**Stop worrying, he'll be here," Ron said around a full bite of chips from his place across the table from her, squeezed tight against Hermione in the booth they shared. "He just got held up at work."**_

"_**You got here almost an hour ago," she replied, using her fork to dig around a pile of barely eaten mashed potatoes. **_

"_**Well, they don't need me as much as they need him. He's the future of the Auror Department, everyone there says so. They're already talking quietly about how long it'll be until he takes over as Head."**_

"_**That's ridiculous," Ginny scoffed. "He's not even nineteen yet. They shouldn't be putting that kind of pressure on him. Harry needs to be normal for a while, not be saddled with a brand new pile of expectations to meet." She stabbed her fork through a crisp piece of fish.**_

_**Hermione smiled in sympathy. "Harry's never going to be just 'normal,' Ginny, no matter how much he, or any of us who love him, wants that. He killed the darkest wizard to ever exist. People will still be in awe of him generations from now. There will always be things expected of him in this world. He needs to learn to accept that or it'll drive him-" The witch bit down on her lip and looked at her own plate. Ron threw his girlfriend a sideways glance that his sister wasn't supposed to see.**_

_**Ginny rolled her eyes. "You can say 'crazy' in front of me, Hermione. I won't go into a fit or anything." It wasn't the first time people watched their words around her and it was growing ever more bothersome, especially with how much better she was feeling day to day.**_

"_**No one thinks you were crazy. You've had a difficult year, we all have. Everyone just wants you to focus on moving forward, that's all." Ron and Hermione both went back to their meals while Ginny pushed her own plate away and folded her arms on the table, listening for the door to open until Hermione spoke up again. "Your tryout is next week, right?"**_

_**Ginny nodded and despite her anxiety, she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. In just a week's time, she could be signed up to play for the greatest team in professional Quidditch, a girlhood dream on the cusp of coming true.**_

_**Ron shook his head at her. "I still don't understand why you declined to meet with the recruiter from the Cannons. The papers said they were willing to offer you almost double what the Harpies quoted you."**_

"_**Because unlike you," she said sweetly, "I have a few qualms about supporting a team with such an aversion to winning." Hermione tried to hold in her laughter as Ron's face turned bright red.**_

"_**Yeah, well," he stuttered, "they've been having a couple of, what do you call them? Rebuilding seasons. That's all."**_

"_**A couple of decades worth, you mean."**_

"_**Just wait until your match against them," Ron continued with a feral grin. "See how many times you get the Quaffle past the hoops when Prosentington is guarding them right in front of you."**_

"_**What you should be focused on," Hermione piped in, "is studying. N.E. will be here before you know it and you've hardly spent any time in the library."**_

"_**You would know. Madame Pince is going to start having to leave a cot for her in there," Ginny told Ron.**_

"_**Really?"**_

"_**Well, I need to get the extra work in. There isn't much time left."**_

"_**Hermione, how much more studying do you need? You properly corrected Professor Flitwick in Charms the other day. He told you so in front of the entire class."**_

"_**Precisely! That man has been reviewing my Charms work for almost a decade. Goodness knows how many errors he's let me make in that time!"**_

_**The Weasley siblings laughed at Hermione together. Ron pulled her close to his side for a kiss to her head. The sight made Ginny's heart ache a little and she turned away from it. The door opened just as she did and she got her first in-person glimpse of Harry's flawless green eyes since the Christmas holidays. Without a word, she leapt out of her seat and made a beeline towards him, throwing herself into his welcoming arms and wrapping her legs around his waist, not caring who saw them together at the moment.**_

_**Harry seemed equally pleased to see her. His arms crushed her to him and he buried his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent loudly.**_

"_**I missed you," he murmured tiredly. "You have no idea."**_

"_**I could probably take a guess," she teased, pulling back to look in his eyes. Stroking the rough stubble across his cheeks, she leaned in and took possession of his mouth. He gave into her gladly and it wasn't until the catcalls and whistles started ranging down around them that she allowed herself to pull back, taking in a deep breath of air and smiling at the deep look of joy washing over his face. "I love you," she said loud enough for his ears only.**_

"_**I love you, too," he replied, pulling her close again.**_

"_**Oi Potter!" She turned her head to the side to glare at her brother. "This is a family establishment with a member of her," he jerked his head towards Ginny, "family present. Do you mind?" Hermione slapped his arm viciously.**_

_**Ginny turned back to Harry. "Come on. I ordered you the Shepard's Pie with onions and no peas."**_

_**He glanced back at the door for a second before plastering a smile on his face. "Sounds great. I'm starving." Releasing her carefully, they walked back to the secluded booth Madame Rosmerta had set aside for them to join Ron and Hermione, Ron still looking a little green around the gills.**_

_**Hermione leaned over the table to give Harry a quick hug and peck on the cheek. Pulling away, she frowned at him. "You look haggard, Harry."**_

"_**I'm fine," he said woodenly, his eyes flashing at his old friend. "Just had a long day at work." Sitting next to Ginny, he took her hand in his underneath the table. "What were you three talking about?"**_

_**Hermione looked ready to continue questioning him, but Ron broke in, overly cheerful, "Just Ginny's terrible, ill-conceived decision to align herself with a group of overrated, haughty witches as opposed to joining a real Quidditch team."**_

"_**Your tryout next week?" He asked her. She nodded in confirmation. "Let me know the exact time, I think I can talk McGonagall into letting me come watch in the stands with her."**_

"_**Oh Harry, you don't have to." She gave him a kiss far too chaste for her liking, but she didn't want to scar Ron too badly. **_

_**He kept his face close to hers. "Tell me when it is. I'll be there with bells on and a sack of Galleons in case someone requires a bribe. Not that I'll need it. Aurors are just taught to be prepared."**_

_**She melted against him, reveling in the sound of his heart beating against his chest. He was perfection personified.**_

_**Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably. He looked as if he he'd rather not say anything. "Um, mate, not that I don't think it's great that you want to be there to support Gin and all, but don't we have an exam next week on the day of her tryout?"**_

"_**I'll take it another time," Harry brushed him off, tightening his grip around Ginny's hand. He looked down into her quizzical eyes. "Don't worry about it. Seeing you make the Harpies is more important to me than taking a test."**_

_**Before Ginny could say that his career was just as important as hers, Hermione spoke up. "Harry, you can't think like that! If you fail even one exam in your training, they could hold you back or even remove you from the program." **_

"_**That won't happen, Hermione." He laughed humorlessly. "I'm the bloody Boy Who Lived; do you really think they'd chuck me if I failed one lousy exam?"**_

"_**Maybe not," she eyed him coolly, "though in conjunction with a couple of your more questionable arrests, you might force them to have to at least consider it."**_

_**Ginny raised her head in alarm. What arrests? Nothing in any of Harry's letters had given any indication of problems with his work.**_

_**Harry glared at Hermione until he decided to cast his ire on his other best friend. "Guess some of us don't like to keep our traps shut, do they?" he asked Ron coldly. All of the ease and happiness of an afternoon together as friends left the group in a rush of air. **_

"_**You only made me promise not to say anything to your girlfriend. You never said anything about what I could or couldn't tell my mine."**_

"_**Harry." Ginny tugged on his arm to try and get him to look at her. "What's going on? What's been happening at work? Have you-?"**_

"_**You're supposed to have my back," he continued to Ron. "We're partners! I'm supposed to be able to trust you!"**_

"_**Like I'm supposed to be able to trust you to be safe out in the field instead of rushing headlong into situations without any kind of back up or authority!"**_

"_**Forgive me for wanting to go out and actually stop criminals instead of hiding in a corner and waiting for someone to come along and do the work of saving other people for me. Oh, forgive me. I forgot who I was talking to for a second!" Without another word, Harry slid out of the booth and strode out of The Three Broomsticks. Ginny immediately got up to follow him. When she was on her feet, she faced Ron and Hermione again.**_

"_**I-I don't…"she tried to say, completely at a loss for what had just happened in front of her own eyes.**_

_**Hermione, though clearly upset, nodded at her. Ron was staring straight ahead, growing maroon with rage. "Go after him," Hermione commanded softly, taking one of Ron's tight hands in hers. "It's alright, we'll be fine. He needs you now."**_

_**Ginny turned on her heel, grabbing her jacket and struggling to put it on as she raced out the door. The wind lashed at her face when she stepped outside, her head swinging back and forth to try to find Harry. She prayed he hadn't Apparated away. She'd hate to have to explain to McGonagall why she had left Hogsmeade without permission. **_

_**When she took her first step forward, Harry's voice called out to her wearily.**_

"_**I'm over here, Ginny." Whirling around, she found him leaning against the side of the building, the structure appearing to be the only thing holding him up. His whiskered face was drawn and haunted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the lunch."**_

_**Without a word, she went and wrapped her arms around him. He gripped her even tighter than he did in the inn. "What's wrong, luv?" she asked gently. "Please tell me."**_

"_**I'm just…I don't like being away from you so much," he admitted into her hair. Ginny frowned against his chest. "You're the best part of me and it's hard being apart from that for so long."**_

_**It was frightening for her to her those words, even more when she realized how much he meant them.**_

"_**Well," she said, pushing her fears deep down inside her heart, "I'll only be in school a few more months. We can manage until then. You're pretty hard too be without to, you know."**_

"_**Really?"**_

"_**Of course." She pulled her head back and gave him the most comforting smile she could manage. "I love you as much as you love me. You know that, don't you?"**_

_**Harry stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. "It's nice when you remind me."**_

_**Turning her head, she kissed his palm. They were in their own little world, oblivious to the people all around them, and it was the only place in the world Ginny wanted to be. Everything made sense as long as they were together.**_

"_**Do you want to go back inside?" she asked hesitatingly after a few moments. She'd rather stay as they were, but Ron and Hermione deserved an apology.**_

"_**Not now," Harry said. His eyes were full of remorse. "I'll talk to them both later, I promise. Right now, I just want to be with you while we have the time."**_

"_**Okay," she agreed and tugged him away from the wall.**_

_**Together they walked quietly down the streets. They didn't speak, despite all the questions and concerns muddling Ginny's thoughts. He was keeping things, important things, from her that much was clear, but how much exactly? What was he so afraid of? That she would be angry? That she'd be embarrassed by his need for help? That she'd leave him?**_

_**That would never happen.**_

_**A flash of bright sunlight bouncing out of a store window got caught in Ginny's eye and she raised her hand to shield herself from it. She turned to the source.**_

"_**What is it?" Harry asked. He looked at the store she was staring at and tugged her closer to get a better look. With her vision clear, Ginny saw that they were standing outside of the storefront of the local jeweler and she was able to get a good look at what had temporarily blinded her.**_

"_**It's a persem diamond," she breathed, edging closer to the window to better see the brilliant, sparkling piece of jewelry. "I've never seen one up close before."**_

"_**It's special?" Harry asked, bending his head so it was close to hers to examine the small ring that held the diamond. The ring sat on a velvet pillow surrounded by tiny, multicolored crystals that allowed the light of the diamond to bounce and play around the tiny window.**_

"_**Extremely and rare as well. This must cost more than most houses."**_

"_**What's so special about it?"**_

"_**The diamond has the ability to be infused with love," Ginny told him. "When someone buys it, they spend months working with the jeweler to magically transfer their essence into the diamond. They think of the one they love, the one who will own that ring, and by using the feelings those memories respond to, the diamond literally holds the love that person feels. But it's tricky. The jeweler crafting it has to be absolutely convinced of the person's love or he won't begin the process. It's said to be extremely draining, even painful at times. If the person doesn't love the recipient with their whole heart, the magic doesn't work. When it's completed and the recipient puts it on, they're able to carry that love with them wherever they go and it lasts for eternity."**_

"_**How do you know about all this?"**_

"_**My grandmother's great grandmother had a persem diamond. The story was passed down the family. My Gran said that when her husband died, her great grandmother's ring went dull inside."**_

"_**Sounds like heady magic."**_

"_**In the Wizarding world, a persem diamond is one of the ultimate symbols of devotion." Ginny glanced over to find Harry staring intently at the ring. Her stomach fluttered with the speed of a hummingbird's wings, but she tamped it down as she tugged him away from the window to continue their quiet walk together. She dismissed her thoughts as silly flights of fancy as she nestled herself into his side again.**_

_**He couldn't love her that much. It wasn't possible.**_

Ginny was startled from her musings by the wild laughter and whooping that could only come from small children, beckoning her closer. She finally saw the end of the path and walked towards it, coming out to see an enormous Quidditch field, complete with stands nearly identical to the ones from Hogwarts.

High above her, ten children of varying ages were flying in a race around the length of the stadium. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out a familiar streak of black hair at the front of the pack. With a happy smile, she walked ahead until she was standing on the field underneath the group.

They flew a few more laps before a whistle blew and the lot of them began descending to the ground. The kids stood together in a bunch, windswept and sweating in their t-shirts and shorts. They smiled and giggled at her, whispering behind their hands Harry went right over to her, smiling brightly.

"You came! I wasn't sure if you would or not."

"I needed to see for myself your prowess as a Quidditch coach," she said. He nodded and faced his team, pulling her a little closer to them.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet Ginny Weasley. Ginny, I would like you to meet the team that's going to crush the rest of the Hastom Quidditch League come September."

"Hi," she waved to them.

"Hello," they called back, some waving back with their whole arm and other shying away slightly.

"What would you guys think of Ginny here helping to coach you guys this year? Doesn't that sound great?"

A small hand popped up the air, bobbing up and down. "Coach Potter! Coach Potter!"

"Yes, Zoey?"

A little girl with brown pigtails and a front tooth missing edged her way to the front of the group. "My mummy said that that lady was going to have a baby and my daddy said that when there's a baby in your belly, you are NOT supposed to fly. Is that true?"

Ginny's face reddened and Harry coughed throatily. "Uh, yes Zoey. That is, um, all true."

"So how can she help us win if she can't fly?" an older boy asked doubtfully, leaning on his broomstick. She raised an eyebrow at the arrogant little smirk on his face.

"I've got this, Harry," she said, holding her hand up to stop Harry from speaking. Walking closer, she paced the length of them, eyeing them critically. "How many of you have been coached by Gwenog Jones, the only member of the Quidditch Hall of Fame to be inducted when she was still a player? How many of you have trained in every kind of weather imaginable, with broken fingers and cuts that needed stitches, from sun-up until sundown? How many of you have ever played on a World Cup team that won against the most-heavily favored team Bulgaria has ever produced?"

"You flew against Viktor Krum?" the same boy asked, his jaw hanging open. His teammates faces were alight with excitement and envy.

"I did," she shrugged. "But if you don't think a pregnant, grounded witch can be of any help to you then I suppose I'll just go home and eat chocolate for the next six months."

She turned her back on them and hadn't even taken a step towards Harry when a chorus of shouts and pleas rang out behind her.

She raised her eyebrows to Harry. "I guess I'll hang around then."

He beamed in return before whistling his-their team-back into the sky.

Later that night, Ginny was on the couch again, rereading the letter she had finally managed to pen to her parents.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_There's no way to ease you into this so I'll just come right out and say it: I'm pregnant._

_I'm almost four months along and I am no longer with the baby's father. Before you ask, no it isn't Lionel. It's a very long story and to tell it again would only be painful. Please, I beg of you, trust me when I say that it is for the best if no one knows who my baby's father is._

_I know this is shocking for you and I wish I had had the courage to tell you before you left on your trip, but I didn't want you to feel as if you had to stay behind and take care of me. And I don't want you to come home now. It took some doing, but I'm finally settled._

_In Hastom._

_It isn't the place you believe it to be. It's beautiful and filled to the brim with the kindest, most loving people you could imagine. I am very happy and safe here, I swear. Because of the baby, I won't be playing Quidditch any longer. I'm working at a pub here to earn money and my lodging is all taken care of._

_I'm so sorry to cram all of this into a letter. It wasn't how I wanted to tell you that I was giving you a grandchild and I'm sure it wasn't how you imagined you'd get one from me. Please understand that I am happy with what my life is turning into. It's scary at times and there are instances when I get overwhelmed with it all, but on the whole, this baby makes me happier than I ever thought I'd have a right to be. I know it won't be easy for you to accept this. I hope that, in time, you will. There is so much I want to share with you. I saw the baby's first picture today. She's beautiful._

_To become a citizen of Hastom, I have to remain here for six months straight. I don't know when I'll be able to see you next. Hopefully, we can find a way for you to be here when the baby comes._

_Please write to me. Good, bad, or ugly, I just want to hear from you again. I miss you both so much. I'll be in contact with the boys as well._

_Your Loving Daughter,_

_Ginny_

Feeling a weight lift from her chest, she brought the parchment to her lips and gave her words a gentle kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Over a hundred thousand words written. I can't believe it. Truly, I can't believe it. Much thanks as always to my betas, would did great work with making Bart sound believable, as I have no experience in that particular area. It'll make sense when you read it. I hope everyone has a happy and safe holiday. This is the last update before the New Year, but I plan to have something at least ready to go by the beginning of January. Enjoy!**

"All I'm saying," Ginny said as she pushed the front door open and walked inside, "is that pulling off a feint isn't completely unreasonable. I'm not saying it's easy, but if Geraldine Winston, who had to write 'left' and 'right' on her shoes to tell them apart, could do it, then it isn't impossible."

Harry followed her into the kitchen, dropping the brown sack full of fish and chips they had gotten from the Falcon for dinner on the table before he continued the argument they had been engaged in since he had met her after work. "At the professional level, no. Of course not. Calvin is barely eleven years old, though."

"Age has nothing to do with it. It's all about skill and instinct. You, as a former Seeker of most noble repute, cannot deny that he's brilliant."

"You need perfect balance and coordination to pull off a feint safely. He still has difficulty keeping steady on even the widest turns. You want him to attempt a precision dive at high speeds with someone double his age and experience right on his tail? What did the poor boy ever do to you for you to have such a grudge against him?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose at Harry. She plucked a crisp chip from the bag and popped it in her mouth. "He won't learn unless he tries. None of the kids will. You don't push them hard enough sometimes, Harry. That's the reason why they're a third-place team. The talent is there, it just needs to be fostered."

"It's a game, Gin," he told her, setting the plates on the table and portioning out a serving of food for himself. "Would winning the tournament be great? Absolutely. The most important thing to me is that they have fun."

"When did you get so soft?" she grumbled, eating another chip out of the bag as Harry tried to take some. "At Hogwarts, when you were captain, there were times on the pitch that I thought Oliver Wood had taken a batch of Polyjuice Potion laced with your hair."

Harry shrugged half-heartedly, handing her a glass of milk before sitting across from her. "I-**we**-fought a war for a lot of reasons. For me, one of them was so that kids in our world would get to grow up different than me; that they'd actually just get to be kids for a while."

There was no argument for that and even if there was one, Ginny would never make it.

She finally started putting some of the food on her own plate before she ate it. As Harry Summoned the cutlery, Ginny ripped a piece of flakey crust of the fish and chewed. Grimacing a little, she quickly washed it down with a sip of her drink. "Too much…something. It didn't taste like this the last time I ate it."

"When was the last time you ate the fish?"

"End of July, I think. When my appetite came back full force."

Harry nodded and cut up his own fish. "Makes sense."

"Why's that?" He pretended not to hear her as he started eating and she narrowed her eyes. "What? Harry, I've been on my feet at the pub all day and I'm in no mood for a round of Twenty-Thousand Questions. Please just come out with it."

"Bart made the fish. It was his own personal recipe," Harry finally said. "That's why it tastes funny."

"Oh." She frowned down at her plate of food. Getting up, she walked silently to the fridge and pulled out a jar of cherries. She opened the jar as she sat down and placed it beside her full plate. Breaking off a small piece of fish, she dunked it into the juice of the cherries and ate it in one bite. She had dipped her third piece of fish in when she noticed the sickened yet fascinated look Harry was giving her. "What?" she asked self-consciously. "It makes it taste better."

"I hope for your sake that's true," he replied, returning to his own meal.

"Have you heard from him?" Ginny asked quietly.

"No," Harry shook his head slowly, "but that doesn't mean anything."

"His letter said he'd be gone for a week at most. It's been two. In my book, that means something."

"Bart worked and lived for years in secret. Infiltrators are trained, well-trained, in the art of learning everything they can about their targets without ever revealing any information about themselves. He operated alone and worked in the shadow of shadows."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"It means we could go months, years even, without hearing from Bart and it would still be possible for him to be living only two doors away from us."

"And you think that's right? He has responsibilities here. Klaus and I are barely managing the pub and Nell is an absolute wreck. She's going to end up with an ulcer if he doesn't turn up soon."

"You can't force someone to come back if they don't want to," Harry said, looking her straight in the eye. "No matter how much you beg or threaten, if they're not ready, all you're doing is giving yourself a sore throat."

Ginny picked up a chip and dunked it into the jar, swirling it around viciously. Harry waved his hand and another Butterbeer floated out of the fridge. Ginny glared at him.

"Do you have to do that in front of me?" she huffed.

"What? Drink? It's only-"

"Not that! I work in a pub, for Merlin's sake, that doesn't bother me in the least!"

"Well, then wha-?"

"Magic!" She threw her napkin down and sat up straight, folding her arms across her chest. "Did you ever stop to think that that was rude to do in front of me? I have four months, eleven weeks, and six days before I can Summon or Transfigure anything yet still I have to watch you every single day wave your hand to untie your own shoelaces! Don't you have any sense, Harry?" Without waiting for a reply, she got up out of her seat and stalked upstairs into her bedroom.

Almost as soon as she crossed the threshold, the flame of her anger at Harry burned out as quickly as it had been lit.

_It's not his fault_, she mused silently, collapsing on her side against the bed. The fish had upset her system. A dozen or so bubbles popped and fluttered inside her stomach. _Don't take it out on him. Not after all he's done for you this past month_.

Sometimes being around him felt so easy that Ginny was almost able to forget for a moment or two how difficult things should actually be. Harry should have had the right to remind her every day of the terrible pain she had caused him; how he was being nothing more than a noble citizen of Hastom or repaying some longstanding, imaginary debt to her family by taking her in; that when her six months was up, Meredith would be moving into the home in her place with a summer wedding by the lake soon to follow.

He had every right to not be her friend. Especially, like a few moments ago, when she bit his head off and spit it back out like spoiled meat for no good reason other than she needed someone to lash out at. He had every right to keep his distance from her.

But he didn't.

Harry escorted her home from work every time he was able to. He let her chose the wireless program they listened to some nights; even when she'd catch him nodding off to sleep in the middle of it. He stopped eating beef in the house when she told him how sensitive to the smell she was. He showed her pictures of all the growing Teddy had done in the past three years and told her a hundred or so different stories about his godson. Harry's face was so alive with light when he did, Ginny never had the heart to tell him that she had already heard a few of the stories third-hand from Hermione or her family. He listened patiently to advice about the Quidditch team and introduced her kindly to all in Hastom that they met.

_He's a good man, that's why. It wouldn't sit well with his conscience if he didn't make sure you were comfortable here._

"Which is nice," she mumbled out loud, rubbing her stomach to try to ease the strange sensation brewing inside it, "but it'd make my life so much easier if he made it just a little harder to be in love with him."

There was a soft knock on the doorframe. "Ginny?"

She froze. Had he just heard…?

"Are you awake?"

"Yes," she sighed in relief, rolling over to see him studying her hesitantly from the doorway. She gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry about downstairs. You didn't do or say anything wrong. I'm just…crazy, I suppose."

"That you are." Harry nodded, coming further into the room to sit on the edge of the small desk by her bed. "Bart will come back, you know. Trust me he won't be able to stay from Nell for too much longer. She's…I mean, he and Nell…" He tried to find the words.

"They're not each other unless they're together," Ginny whispered. She burrowed a little more into the pillow, uncomfortable with how the truth of that statement applied to her as well. The only thing the woman she had been two and half months ago and the person she was now had in common was a name. There was no doubt in her mind that being around Harry again so much played a part in that miraculous change.

"Yeah," Harry breathed. He examined a stray quill she had left on the desk. "That's…that's about it. So, uh, that means he'll have to come home eventually."

"I know he will. That wasn't what set off the explosion in the kitchen."

"The magic? I promise I'll try to be more mindful of it. It didn't bother me as much when I lived with Bart and Nell during my trial. But I know for you-"

"It wasn't the magic," she cut him off quietly. "I mean, it's a little irksome at times to have to run around the pub during my shifts, grabbing everything and carrying everything on trays that feel like they weigh a hundred stone and then come home to see you whip dinner together so effortlessly by waving a wand or your hand. I'm fine with it, though. Citizenship means more to me than the ability to summon a carton of ice cream from the kitchen right to my bed. You don't have to stop using magic just because I can't."

"Than what is it that has you so upset?"

Sighing, Ginny reached under her pillow and pulled out a creased envelope. She silently handed it over to Harry.

Unfolding it, he read the return address before raising his eyes to hers, furrowing his eyebrows. "It's from your parents."

"Yes."

"This is…This is the response to the letter about you living here and Hastom and…"

"The baby, yes."

He turned the envelope over to find it sealed. "You haven't read it yet."

"No."

"I don't remember this being with the post this morning."

"Probably because it came three days ago."

"Ginny…"

"Please don't look at me like that." She rolled away, curling her legs up and wishing her stomach would calm down. A few pieces of fried cod with cherry juice weren't the oddest thing she had eaten lately.

The bed dipped. She felt the warmth of Harry's skin through the layers of their clothing and the scent of the soap he used mix with his musk seep into her nostrils. His hand slowly came to rest on her shoulder and she took in a shaky breath, her heart becoming as unsettled as her stomach. Pressing down, he gently turned her over to face him. The sight of his face above hers, his green eyes taking in every line and angle of her face, was so beautiful and unnerving all at once. So familiar and yet so painful. Unable to bear it, Ginny sat up and leaned her back against the headboard, distancing herself from him as much as she could on the small bed.

Harry scooted back a little as well. For some reason, his cheeks were red and he ran his hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he tried to hand her the letter.

"Open it," he ordered gently. "I'm sure they're worried that they haven't heard from you yet and you can't write back until you read this. Open it."

"Harry, I-"

"They will not disown you. They're your parents and they love you. That's exactly what this piece of parchment is going to say. You know that. Deep down, you know that."

"I just-"

"Open it." Harry took her hand and pressed the letter into it.

She looked into his eyes, needing his strength and his confidence more than she wanted to admit. "You really think it'll be alright?"

"I promise it will be," he swore softly. He started to get up from the bed, but Ginny grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him back down.

"Please stay," she whispered. He nodded and gave her knee a small, stiff squeeze of support. Ignoring the tremble of heat that raced up her thigh to her stomach, she tore open the envelope and took out the lone piece of parchment.

_It will be alright. It has to be._

With a burst of adrenaline, she opened the letter and started to read:

_Dear Ginny,_

_First and foremost, you are our child. There is nothing you could do, no crime you could commit and no action too illogical that would ever allow us to stop loving you._

_Your father thought sending you a Howler would not be healthy for your condition so I'll to make do with this: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY? _

_We talked for FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT about physical intimacy and contraception options on your fourteenth birthday to ensure that things like this would NOT happen! A witch has a responsibility to herself to make certain that she is protected from things like unplanned pregnancies precisely so she is not left to make enormous, life-altering decisions on her own! To become pregnant by a man who will take no part in that child's life is…there are no words. As your mother, I am terribly sad._

_But as a mother, I understand wholeheartedly your choice. I was someone else entirely before I had Bill: A little rough around the edges, impetuous, always pushing the boundaries of magic to fight against Dark wizards and witches, consumed with my role in the Order. However, the moment that potion turned blue and I knew that there was a child growing in me, I changed. I became someone's mother and that was more important to me than anything else in the world. I imagine it was similar for you. _

_I cannot tell you that this is the life I wanted for you, my beautiful girl. It would be a lie. I wanted you married to wonderful man and for a child to come from that love, as it did for your father and me. Life hardly ever asks for our input, though, does it? Your child is here and it is yours. That is the only thing they need to be for your father and I to adore them._

_As for choosing to live in Hastom…I trust you. Neither your father nor I ever knew anyone who had lived there. Every story we told you and your brothers was legend, born from centuries of a mixture of fear and mockery. It isn't easy to have you away from us in a place we don't know. Your poor father wanted so badly to cut short this trip and come find you, to see with his own eyes that you were safe. It wasn't until I told him that you knew what danger was that he relented; that you had faced it time and again, and that if you thought you were safe in Hastom, we had to have faith in that judgment._

_Please write soon. I want to hear every detail of how this pregnancy is going. You listen to what your healer tells you and if you have any questions, day or night, write or use the Floo network. I've included an itinerary of the rest of our trip if you need to find us. The conferences are going marvelously well. Your father is a hit with the representatives of both sets of governments and he is making real progress on helping to bridge some of the gaps that have divided the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. You would be so proud of him._

_We love you with all our hearts, Ginevra. Take good care of yourself and our granddaughter. Or grandson. Not matter what the image may have said, you are a Weasley and you should never start buying pink until the baby is actually out. We learned that lesson with Ronnie. And I don't care what I have to do, I will be with my only daughter when she's delivering her first child. There is nothing in the world that would keep me away. _

_With love,_

_Mum_

Leaning her head against the wall, Ginny laid the letter over her heart and let out a breath.

"See?" she heard Harry say with a smile in his voice. "All that worrying for nothing."

"You have no idea how scared I was," she admitted in a tiny voice. "If it had gone the other way…"

"But it didn't and there was never a chance of it happening to begin with. Telling your brothers will be a piece of cake after this."

"I wouldn't go that far," she said. Ginny set the letter on the desk next to her, enjoying the feeling of the tension leaving her shoulders. If only her stomach would relent. The bubbles stayed right where they were, making no effort to move in another direction. It wasn't even painful, just…bizarre. She had never felt anything like this.

_The fish wasn't that bad_, she thought. She shifted up, hoping the feeling would ease.

"It might not be easy," Harry continued, unaware of Ginny's discomfort, "but your brothers are tough blokes. They can handle the fact their baby sister is pregnant. And to be honest, it'll help me out some. Ron's going a little batty about finding out where you are. Luna told them all you were fine when you left and your letters to them go out like clockwork. Still, Ron's starting to doubt them, though; especially since you told him you left the Harpies. He doesn't buy you traveling around in Brazil, studying interpretive dance movement or whatever rubbish was in that last letter. He thinks…"

Harry kept talking, but Ginny couldn't hear him. Her heart hitched and her breath caught in her chest. She was only able to process one word:

Movement.

_Is that…Bubbles…Fish…Could that be…Am I…?_

Reaching down to the floor, she pulled up the book Nell had given her over a month ago. Some chapters were untouched, others read over countless times and highlighted to within an inch of their lives. Harry stopped talking about her brothers as she pulled the copy of _Midwife LeBeauont's Magical Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth_ open and started frantically skimming through it.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Are you in pain? Is there something happening? Should I Floo Nell? Do you need me to bring you to her? Ginny, what's going…?"

His increasingly frenzied tone faded to the background as Ginny finally found the section she was looking for:

_For the majority of first-time mothers, movement is undetectable until sometime between the eighteenth and twentieth weeks of pregnancy, although some can feel movement as early as fourteen weeks, depending on the physical stature of the mother and how she is carrying the baby. Most describe the sensation of those first instances of movement as feeling like mild intestinal gas, or like bubbles floating in their stomachs and… _

"Oh my goodness," she breathed in awe, both hands dropping the book and going to her belly. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared up into Harry's equally huge yet frightened eyes. "She's moving."

He blinked. "I'm-I'm sorry?"

"The baby's moving! I…I felt her moving! I thought it was dinner and being…being upset, but it was her. It was my baby." She beamed with pride and love.

"Are you, um, in pain?" Harry finally asked. His eyes were still wide for some reason.

"No," she shook her head. Her smile was a little painful, but not her stomach. "It feels amazing!" Focusing inward, Ginny willed the bubbles (no, her baby!) to flare up again and announce Iris's presence. It took a few seconds to become noticeable, but suddenly the inside of her stomach came alive. "Oh! There she is again!"

Unable to contain her joy or her impulses, she grabbed Harry's hand and placed it on her stomach, looking down at the lovely sight as she held it on top of the small swell and willing him to feel her daughter.

The wrongness of the situation took a few seconds to hit her. It wasn't until she noticed how stiff Harry's fingers felt under her own that her smile faded and she slowly glanced up; she saw just how pale he had become in that moment. His mouth was open slightly and his eyes locked onto hers, overwhelmed and overcome with…something.

She immediately relinquished her tight hold on his hand. It rested on her belly for a beat more before he pulled it back slowly to his lap and curled it into a fist. He turned his head and studied the hallway past the open bedroom door.

"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper. The bliss of feeling Iris move and the revulsion of what she had just done waged war with each other. Harry was uncomfortable by even the idea of the baby. That much had been clear since their meeting in New York. He had been supportive of the pregnancy but from a considerable distance and she understood. Who was she to force this child's development onto him with no warning? "That was…I shouldn't have…" She folded both of her hands on her stomach meekly. "I was just so happy and I wanted-"

Harry nodded mechanically. "It's okay," he said.

"No, it isn't," she disagreed at once, near tears. "That was completely out of line. It was miles away from the line. I can't even see the bloody line from-"

"Ginny." He stopped her ramblings at the ice in his voice. He swallowed deeply. "It's fine. Don't worry over it."

"But I-"

He stood up, walking to the door without looking back. "Goodnight."

When he was out of earshot, she banged her head lightly against the wall and swore under her breath. "Damn it."

Harry was already gone by the time she woke up the next morning. There was no note anywhere that she could find. The plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting for her at the kitchen tablet had a Warming Charm on it. Ginny managed to force down a few bites before heading off to work on the dreary day, her own failures literally a cloud hanging over her head.

"_Guten morgan_!" Klaus called out to her from the bar when she walked into the Falcon. She glanced over it and found him in the cellar.

"Morning," she replied. "Do you need a hand bringing anything up?"

"_Nein_. We have birthday lunch today for one o'clock."

"Yes, the Spranglers. Twenty-five guests, right?"

"Yes, but we not have something else."

"What?"

"Help. You only waitress today."

"What about Zaya?"

"Home sick. You only waitress."

"Excuse me? Where are Phoebe and Imelda? Can't one of them come in to help?"

Klaus climbed up from the cellar carrying two huge wooden barrels, red-faced and huffing. He brewed the house ale for the Millennium Falcon by hand from a family recipe created five generations ago and unlike Wizarding beverages, any use of magic after it was made (such as shrinking then expanding the quantity of it) had a dramatic effect on the taste. "Not on schedule. Both have plans made. Not come in," he grunted.

"One waitress cannot manage the entire pub plus a party alone," Ginny said, already feeling the headache start to form all the way from the base of her neck. "You told me you'd be fine handling the schedule for a little while, Klaus. I can't possibly-"

The stocky man set both barrels down on one end of the bar, wiping the sweat from the top of his shiny head. "_Herr_ Nixon always makes schedules. I never makes schedules before, just makes _bier_ and bring food to tables. No handle other people, no order food, no manage. That _Herr_ Nixon's job. Not mine." He leaned against the bar tiredly, barely able to catch his breath. Shaking her head, Ginny went and poured him a glass of water, which he gulped down greedily. "_Danke_. I sorry I no more help. _Herr_ Nixon never gone so long before."

"You're doing the best you can," Ginny told him, patting his burly arm. "We all are. So let's get this place ready and we'll find a way to get through it together."

It was the last bit of positivity she was able to muster. The day was an unmitigated disaster. The lunch rush was so busy that the cooks, Borvan and Tully, both had to come out to help serve customers, which forced the kitchen to grind to a halt. The Replenishing spell Tully cast on the soup went amiss, causing a flood of heavy cream and broccoli bits to spill out on the patrons' feet. There had been no time to prepare a cake for the Spranglers' party so Ginny had to rush three blocks over to buy one and rush back again twenty minutes later when she lost her first cake to a slippery sidewalk. Dinner had followed suit with lunch until Klaus had thrown up his hands and closed the pub for the night at seven o'clock.

Two hours later, after the floor was finally completely clean and all of the flatware put away, Ginny collapsed into a chair, seriously considering just spending the night there. She was exhausted and even the few breaks she had been lucky enough to take had barely gotten her through the day. The idea of walking all the way back to the house held no appeal and she doubted that Harry would come walking in anytime soon to keep her company on the trip home.

_He could probably stand not to see your face again for a while_, she thought bitterly. Mind made up, she trudged out back to Bart's office, the sofa calling her aching body. She fleetingly thought of using the Floo to get in touch with Harry, but immediately dismissed it. _Let him see that he's not the only who can fail to leave notes or let other people know where he's going to be._

There was a small scratching noise coming from inside the office. Positive that Klaus was still in the cellar, she nudged it open slowly.

"Hello?" she asked quietly, mindful of where her dormant wand was on her hip. From what she knew, crime was almost unheard of in Hastom, but she had very precious cargo to protect. One could never be too careful. A grumbling moan was the only answer. "Who's in here? Show yourself."

"It's my office. You show yourse-yourselp," a voice slurred from somewhere near the desk.

"Bart?" Ginny asked. Aghast, she walked into the office and searched in the darkness for her boss. "Where are you? Please, cast _Lumos_. I can't see anything in here."

"Sure. No prob." A long pause. "What's the spell for _Lumos_ again?"

"Bart, where the hell are you?" Wide awake and stumbling, she felt her way slowly until her thigh hit the edge of the desk. "Ouch!"

"Wait, wait. Hold on. Let us sled some light on the site-sit-situation." A small spark of light appeared from underneath the desk and Ginny followed it.

She found Bart huddled inside the space. His eyes were blood-shot and his formal shirt and pants were wrinkled. There was a nearly empty bottle of what smelled like Firewhiskey in his hand and splotches of it over his partially unbuttoned shirt. His face was filthy and whiskered and he reeked of days-old grime mixed with alcohol.

"You idiot!" she hissed, kneeling beside him. He lazily smiled at her, only adding more fuel to her anger. Balling up her fist, she started punching him on the leg.

"Ow!" he moaned, trying to wiggle away as best he could in his tight corner. "What the hell are you-?"

"What are you doing? You wife has been in shambles for two weeks now! No letter or call to bother to tell her you're still alive. Not to mention, you left your business high and dry! This place doesn't run without you, Bartowski! I've been running around every day since you left trying to keep your customers happy. Do you think that's healthy for my baby? I don't and I imagine your wife doesn't either. And by the way, you absolutely broke her heart! She's one of my best friends and when you told her you didn't want a baby with her, you made her cry!" Breathing heavily, she halted her abuse and pulled his face close to hers. "**You** are not allowed to make her cry! Do you have any idea how much I want to kill you right now?"

Bart opened and closed his eyes before he nodded. "Yeah." He tried to raise the bottle back to his lips. Ginny batted it away.

"**Where** have you been all this time?"

"California," he said, his head lolling back from Ginny's grip and landing hard against the wood. She winced. Bart smiled lazily. "Land of sunshine, dreams, and physical enhancements for the rich and famous."

"And what were you doing there exactly?"

"Burying my father." He shut his eyes. "Can I please have another drink?"

It took the combined efforts of Ginny and Klaus to lead Bart back to Harry's empty house. Once inside, they had deposited Bart's nearly-unconscious form on one of the plush armchairs. After assuring the worried German that she'd take good care of their boss, Ginny bid Klaus goodnight and set about tending to the drunkard she barely recognized.

Contacting Nell was out of the question; nothing good could come of her seeing her husband in this condition and Ginny doubted that Bart would want his wife to see him as he was. Ginny would go see her straight away in the morning, to ease her troubled mind, but tonight would be about trying to piece Bart back together.

If magic was involved, Ginny could have him fixed up in an instant: A simple Sobering Charm, a quick shower, and he'd be all set. This, however, would not fall into the category of "medical emergency" that would permit her to use magic so Ginny changed into her nightgown, grabbed a few towels and filled a small basin with warm water before returning to the living room. She considered waiting for Harry to come home, but she had no idea when that would be. There was concern for him pinging in the back of her mind. He had to still be upset about last night. Ginny couldn't allow herself to focus on that mess now. Bart's needs were more pressing at the moment.

He was uncooperative as she peeled his soiled shirt off. When she was finally able to toss it into a far corner and start washing his face and chest, he was much more amenable.

"Thank you so, so, so very much," Bart said happily. His head hung over the top of the chair. Ginny only hoped there wasn't too much Firewhiskey in the blood that was rushing to his brain. "You are a kind person, Miss Weasley."

"You're my friend," she told him. "Friends take care of each other when they can. Even when one friend doesn't particularly care for the choices another friend has made, she still has to try to help him if she can."

"Yeah, friends are good. I've got a lot of friends, you know."

"I do know." She tugged on him gently until his head was upright again. Looking into his glassy eyes, she debated about what she was about to do. Hannah Abbot had once told her in passing that drunken men never tell lies. He might be angry later on, but she needed the truth if she was going to help him. "You told me something once, the first night I was in Hastom. Do you remember?"

"Nope," he shook his head to the left and then to the right. "That is a big fat negative."

"Well, you told me that you had lot of friends in your life, but you didn't have much family."

"Yeah, that sounds like some bull that would come out of my mouth."

"Why is that? Why do you not have a lot of family?"

"Because," he said as if the answer was obvious, "I was different than them. They didn't like that."

Ginny dipped the water into the bucket again, wringing it out and then wiping the stickiness off his neck and chest. He must have missed his mouth and poured the Firewhiskey right down his shirt. "You were magical," she concluded, "and they were Muggles."

Bart lifted his hand and rocked it back and forth. "Half and half. Mom was a Muggle. That is such a funny word; where do we come up with these funny words? But Daddy was a Squib. There's them funny words again. Anyways, not just any old Squib. A squib in a long and lust…lust…fancypants line of Squibs. One wizard in his family, born in the 1400s, and after that, barely enough magic in the whole tree to levitate a leaf. He didn't tell mom about magic. Thought it wouldn't come up. Then, lo and behold, along came me. When I was born, I accimently set off all the fire alarms in the hospital and turn all the televisions to _Star Trek_." He laughed uproariously until he started coughing. "So, uh, Dad exmaimed the whole sordid tale to Mom. She did not take the news well. I…I give her some credit; she hung in long enough to get me off her milk, but by the time I knew what a mommy was, she was on Husband Number Two and Kid Number Three." He hiccupped loudly. "I, uh, come from rechilient stock."

"And your father?" Ginny asked quietly.

Bart took a long time to answer. "Dad took care of me at first," he said. He stood and started pacing the room in a slow, wobbly circle. Ginny stayed close behind him in case he fell or went anywhere near the small liquor cabinet. "No one else on either side of my family was around. They went buh-bye when they got glimice of me so it was just him and me. I had food and toys and a house. We…talked: how our days were, movies, sports. That was as deep as we went. Dad never really laughed much or smiled. We also never really talked the magical stuff." His hand traced the living room wall unsteadily. "If my bedroom were a different color in the morning than they had been the night before, he'd just repaint 'em. If I started floabing dishes out of cabinets , he'd put locks on 'em. Any time I asked, he'd always say, 'When it's time, I'll tell ya'. He never made me feel like a freak or anything. He'd only ever tell me to do was…Shush! Not talk about it with other people. And then one day," Bart gasped in wonder and motioned dramatically with his hands, "it was time. Yay!"

"Your letter came," Ginny said, smiling a little at her own memory of seeing the owl fly into the kitchen with the envelope that, at long last, had **her** name on it and **her **school lists.

"Yeah," he said, turning around to her. He had a goofy grin on his face and tried to high-five her, but missed spectacularly. Ginny caught him before he hit the floor and gently urged him back to the armchair. "I t was so cool seeing that eagle waiting outside my bedroom window, holding tha letter out…"

"Eagle? Aren't they almost extinct?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no! Just too oc-ox…busy being used as a magical mail service in America to be found. That's a lot of 'em. Anyhoot, it was all in that letter: You are a wizard; you will study magic at Weiss Academy for eight years; you will live in New York during the school year and blah, blah, blahbedy blah. I read the letter with my father." Bart hiccupped again. "He was so, so quiet for a while and then he told me about our family; and how fortunite I was that I had this power at my disposal 'cause he would have given anything-ANYTHING-in the world to trade places with me.

"Well, we went to New York and got all my school supplites, my wand, and all that jazz. He dropped me…he dropped me at the gate like the other mommies and daddies, but," Bart's look became incredulous, "before I went inside, he gave me a hug and told me how much…" Bart grunted and his smile became bitter, "How much he loved me. He had never once that to me before. It didn't trivver any bells at the time; it just made me a happy, itty-biddy lamb. It was also last time I ever saw the soman bitch alive."

Ginny stayed kneeling on the floor. "He never came back for you? You never went home again?" she whispered when he looked in control.

"Nope," he muttered. "Headmisless Blackstone came to see me about a week into my first term. My father had relinq…relinquist… you know, that big word. He did that with me, giving to me the care of Weiss Academy. Or something like that. He had left enough monies to me to cover my eduvation until I was fourteen and then, I was on my own. All alone in the big, bad world," he said, singing the last part in a high pitched voice. "It wasn't so bad, though. See, to finish out at school, I needed a sch-scl-skol…more monies. That's hows I became an Inflitrator. They will pay for your eduvacation in exchange for serving with them when ya graduate." He pointed with two fingers to himself, missing and pointing to the chair he was sitting in. "That's what I's a did. I's worked all over the world after school: Spying on other governlents; acquiverring lethal potions and curses from baddies before they's could sell 'em to nice peoples; stopping wars from happening by elimicating a wizard or two. Yup. That's what I's did for a much long time.

"I'd had to stay. There was nothing else out there for me. Nada. Zilch. Goose egg. On my last misheeon, I was tailing my target through an alley in New York. He had gotten a tip about me, though, and he had some of his henchpeoples tailing me. When I moved in to apprevend him, I was hit with about half a dozen Cutting Curses before they's covered the wounds with a nasty mix of poisons. It was very, very, very…" Bart slashed his hand across his throat and made a face. "Real bad. The Nilrem Institute is the best place for magical healing in the Americas. Most of the healers there thought I's was a goner. Only one," he held up three fingers, "gave me a shot. A gorgeous-and I do mean GORGEOUS-young witch from a strange place across the waters that was studying abroad put all of her skills into making me bedder. Thanks to her, I was finally able to broked out of the coma. Nell's face-that GORGEOUS face-was the first thing I saw. I was in L-O-V-E, my good woman. The first thing I was able to say was, 'I love you.' It took a while to convince her that I wasn't lahucinating or damaged up top, but I eventually got her on board. I proposed in the hospital and the first thing we did when I was dismarged was go to the N.A.C.M.R. building in New York and get married. I still can't believe she said yes." His happy smile became pathetic. "Now, the one thing she wants, I'ms too scared to give her.

"Of course, she chooses to want it right when my bastard of a sperm donor kicks the bucket. I had to go clean up the mess he made of his life before I finally got to drop the box deep in the ground. No one else even came. Just me and some pimply-faced rookie priest who got my old man's name wrong. You know what the real tragedy of it is? I cried." He looked like he would again and Ginny rubbed his knee in support. "When I was all alone in my hotel room, I actually cried. All that childhood shit I locked away came out all at once. It was surbreal. I even found my mom's address and sat outside her swanky house for two whole days, drinking and waiting for her to come home from a vacation and drinking. Did I mention drinking? If not, I did. When I saw her, she didn't even know who the hell I was. So I say unto her, 'I'm your firstborn child and I buried my father a couple of days ago. Does that mean anything to you?' Parently, still not. She didn't say a word; just walked inside and shut the door behind her." He clapped his hands together and made a loud whooshing noise before he slumped down into the chair.

"I'm sorry," Ginny told him, wiping her eyes. She wondered how many times, in how many ways, one person's heart could break. Maybe all this excess of empathy was simply a byproduct of the pregnancy. Or maybe, after focusing all her attention on herself and Lionel for all those years, she was simply out of practice at being a good friend and had little to no ability to guard her heart against the hurt.

It was also easier now to understand what Nell had said before: Harry had been the lucky one between the two of them. Harry, at least, had the security of knowing his parents had no choice in leaving him alone as a child. Bart's parents had let their own fears and jealousy make their son an orphan.

"Why're you sorry? Wad't your fault." He reached out and patted the top of her head. "You," he tweaked her nose playfully, "are not like my folks. You're good and nice and you'll be good and nice to your kid."

She took his hand and gave his knuckles a chaste kiss. "And you're not your parents either. You'd be a very good father. I know it."

"How?" He shrugged and his smile dimmed. "How do you know that at even the povential sign my kid isn't like me that I wouldn't bail? That I wouldn't love her as much as she deserved? That I'd put myself over her and crush her spirit? I-I can't do that to my daughter."

Ginny ran the wet cloth over his face one last time. "Are you going to be able to remember this conversation in the morning?"

"Prolly not."

"So if I tell you a secret, you won't be able to share it with anyone else?"

"Prolly not."

"And you won't think less of me?"

Bart snorted. "Definly not. Spill it, Ginger."

"I met Nell before I came to Hastom." Picking up a dry towel, Ginny began patting him down. "I went into Healer Smythe's office one day when she was working for him and I was fortunate enough to end up with her. See, um…" She bit down hard on her lip. How she had even let herself consider for a moment what she had almost done was still piercing. "When I first found out I was pregnant, I considered not going through with it. I nearly decided to-to terminate."

"Really?"

"Yes. Thankfully, for all of us, Nell was my healer that day. She saw how much I didn't want to be in that office and helped me realize that if the main reason I was thinking of not having a child was that I was worried I wouldn't be a good enough mother, that it meant I already loved my baby and was trying to think of her before anything else. That kind of love is what makes a good parent. That's what you have inside you, Bart Nixon. If you can find the strength to work through your fears and past, you could have something wonderful in your life: A tiny piece of you and Nell that will floor you and scare you to your wit's end with how much you love her. Even when you haven't held her yet or know what she looks like or what she's called."

"Sophie."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sophie," Bart said, closing his eyes and smiling a little. "That's our daughter's name. One of Nell's grandmother and my favorite teacher in school both had that name. I always thought we'd call our baby girl that."

"It's beautiful."

"She is too. I think so. I hope so. No, I know so. If she looks like her mom, she will be."

"Well," Ginny said softly as Bart's breathing started to even out a little, "if you have her soon enough, Sophie can be best friends with my daughter. That'll be nice."

"Yeah. Be nice." Bart tried to shift on his side to get more comfortable, but only succeeded in nearly falling out of the chair. Smiling, Ginny got up and propped his feet on the coffee table. She grabbed a light throw and placed it over him, tucking it around to cover his exposed upper body. Bending to pick up the basin of water, she was startled when Bart grabbed her wrist; she looked up to see his eyes wide open. "You're a good person."

"You've said that already," Ginny soothed, wriggling her wrist out of his grip and repositioning the blanket. "Numerous times. Rest now. We'll talk more in the morning."

"You have a good heart," he continued seriously. "And I actually get it. I mean, I thought I did before, but now I really do."

"You get what?"

"Why Harry had such a hard time letting go of you. Why even when he started seeing that chick, there was all this distance kept between them. Why when you showed up, everything in his life became all about you. I get it, Ginny. I understand why Harry's struggling so much now." He smiled brightly and shut his eyes again. "Man, do I get it."

Bart could have shown her a Dark Mark on his forearm and her shock wouldn't have been as great as hearing what he had just said. "What are you…Struggling?" She kneeled down next to Bart, shaking his shoulder lightly. He only started snoring loudly. "Bart what do you mean? What do you mean about Harry struggling? Hey!" She clapped her hands together near his ear and he cracked one eye open. "Has Harry told you anything…anything about what he really thinks of me being here with him?"

Bart opened his mouth and Ginny gripped the chair's arm tightly, encouraging him with her eyes to speak.

"Swiverland," he said in a stage whisper. He shut his eyes again and finally fell asleep.

"No, no! No Switzerland!" Ginny tried to wake him again, but it was pointless. He was dead to the world and when he woke up, he likely wouldn't remember anything that had happened tonight.

But she would.

The trials of the day, both experienced and second-hand, caught up with her and she lay down heavily on the couch. The clock chimed to eleven as her eyes started to close.

_What was he going on about? _Ginny thought, curling into herself against the slight chill of the summer air. She didn't even have the strength to find a blanket. _I'm not everything in Harry's life. That's absurd! He has friends and a good job and…and a relationship with a perfectly lovely witch. And yes, it can be hard between us sometimes with me being pregnant, like yesterday, but Harry's hardly struggling with anything. Bart was drunk and confused. That's all. He didn't know what he was talking about._

At ease, she settled into a deep slumber, conveniently forgetting that drunken men tell no lies.

_Ginny rolled over in the large bed. Her hand instinctively reached out for something sturdy and solid; instead, it encountered something fine and flowing._

_Opening her eyes against the dim light, Ginny gazed into the face of the loveliest child she had ever seen. Her skin was clear porcelain, save for a few freckles scattered on her button nose, and her face was at perfect ease in slumber; her lips were parted slightly, little puffs of breath escaping from between them and her long eyelashes twitched in time with her dreams. One little hand curled underneath her left ear and the other lay still at her side._

_Ginny couldn't resist. She reached and brushed a stray lock of delicate red hair away from Iris's face. It was the softest thing she had ever held._

"_Sorry." The whisper broke through Ginny's silent worship of her daughter and she looked away into Harry's green eyes, smiling at her from the other side of the sleeping little girl._

_What on Earth…?_

"_She had a nightmare," Harry continued before Ginny could voice her confusion. "I know you said you didn't want her sleeping in the bed with us anymore, but she was so scared…" He bent down to place a kiss on Iris's exposed ear. She sighed and snuggled deeper into the pillow. Reaching over the girl, Harry took Ginny's hand in his. "I'll move her back to her room in a little while."_

"_No," Ginny said, much louder than she had intended. He was going to take her baby away from her? Not on his life! Harry raised his eyebrows and they both held their breath as Iris shifted restlessly for a moment before settling. "Why…Why wouldn't I want her here with me? I mean, with…us?" Ginny managed to ask quietly, questions looping through her mind one after the other. _

_She and Harry were an us? How was that possible? How was that even logical?_

_And why was __**he**__ looking down at __**her**__ daughter as if the little girl were precious above rubies?_

"_You said just the other night that she was getting too big," Harry explained, lying back down on his side of the bed. Ginny joined him slowly, trying to catch his soft words. "That she was almost six years-old and it was time for her to start setting a good example for her little brothers."_

'_**BROTHERS?'**__ she screamed silently._

"_Oh," Ginny whispered out loud. She could hardly breathe. If she did more than blink her eyes, she thought she would scream. Where was she? What universe was this? Was she drugged? Was she dead and this was heaven? How had this happened? "Harry," she croaked, "I don't know what's-"_

"_Mummy?" The child kept her eyes closed, but she reached out until her hand made contact with Ginny's face. The touch forced every other thought away. It was somehow both equal parts warmth on an icy winter day and a cool splash of water against a blistering sun. Delicately soft, but it lit a fierce fire of joy in the pit of Ginny's stomach._

"_At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." Hadn't Hermione forced her to read that passage from one of her books some time ago? She had never understood the depths of its truth until now._

_Ginny released Harry's hand and pressed Iris's hand more firmly against her cheek. _

'_Heaven. Definitely heaven,' she thought in wonder._

"_Mummy?" Iris mumbled again. Harry smiled and wrapped his free arm around the girl, tucking her into his side before closing his own eyes. He waved his hand and the lights in the room dimmed to darkness._

"_Yes, my love?"_

"_You're too loud. I can't sleep."_

_Leaning over, Ginny pressed her lips against each of her daughter's closed lids. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."_

"_Don't wanna sleep. Don't want bad dreams again."_

"_Mummy will be right here with you," Ginny promised, pulling closer until their foreheads touched. "She will never let anything hurt you."_

"_And Daddy too?"_

"_Yes," she said without thinking. "Daddy's here. Go back to sleep now."_

"_Love you, Mummy…"_

The sunlight broke through her dream and woke her up. Whatever it had been, she knew it had been wonderful and it must have pleased the baby as well. She was fluttering around in the womb, the feeling now welcoming and reassuring. Snuggling into her mattress, Ginny pulled her quilt over her shoulders and sighed happily, enjoying a few more moment's calm before she had to get out of bed and-

_Wait, that's not right._

Peeling her eyes open, she was surprised to find herself lying not on the couch in the living room, as she had fallen asleep, but rather in her room, in her own bed, and tucked in right and proper. How on Earth had that happened?

Before she could question it further, she looked to the clock on her bedside table and gasped.

"Sweet Merlin, I'm late!" she cried, flinging the blankets off and flying out of bed. Grabbing the first shirt and pants from her closet that matched, she struggled to work the buttons on the garments through their respective holes. She had been lucky enough so far to avoid having to invest in maternity clothes, but it seemed that her luck had run out.

_I'll be covered in an apron all morning. I'll pick up some clothes on my lunch break,_ she consoled herself, pulling the tail of her shirt over the front of her pants. Racing through her bathroom routine, her stomach started growling impatiently and loudly.

"Bloody hell," she mumbled, spitting out toothpaste foam. Breakfast couldn't be ignored, no matter how abysmally late for work she was. She shot out of the bathroom and ran down the stairs, reaching the entrance of the kitchen before she stopped short.

Bart and Harry were sitting together at the table, sitting in silence amid a spread of breakfast. Harry's back was turned to her. Bart caught her eye and smiled a little, clean-shaven with spotless clothes and slightly red eyes, otherwise looking none the worse for his drinking binge.

"All I want," Harry suddenly started to say, "is for her to understand that I-"

"Morning Ginny!" Bart said loudly. Harry immediately stopped talking and whirled around to face her.

"Morning," she replied, still a little out of breath. "I'm…I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something?"

"No," Harry said at once. He stood up and pulled out a chair for her to sit in, turning away to go to the stove. "Not at all. What are you hungry for? I made a bit of everything."

"Something quick please." She winced at Bart apologetically as she sat. "I'm late and I'll head over to the pub straight away, I just need to grab a bite."

Bart waved her off as he took a sip from his coffee mug. "Don't worry about it. You get today off actually. Employees who clean me up and give me a chair to sleep on for the night always do. It's a policy of mine."

Ginny relaxed into the chair. "You don't have to do that."

"And you didn't have to do what you did last night. Take the day off and we'll call it even."

"Deal." Harry appeared at her side and set down a plate brimming with food in front of her. She tucked into it, sighing in delight at the taste of blueberry pancakes. "It's delicious," she told Harry as he sat next to her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Their chewing was the only noise between them until Harry asked Bart, "Is Nell going to work today?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking a bite of toast. "I Flooed her a little while ago, when the chef here was preparing the feast, to let her know I was back in Hastom," he explained to Ginny. "She, uh, was glad to hear from me, I guess, but she wasn't in the mood for company." He smiled down at his food. "I have got some serious groveling to do over the next few days." Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "Weeks? Months?" Bart winced. "Well, I'm really glad now that we splurged on a nice couch."

"She'll come around," Ginny told him. "Just be honest with her and give her time."

"That seems to do the trick in most cases," Harry offered.

"Here's hoping so." Bart scooped up the last of his eggs with his toast and stuffed it in his mouth as he stood. After he swallowed, he walked over to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. "Might as well start now. Thank you for the food and the hangover remedy. They were both much appreciated."

"Anytime. If I remember correctly, I owed you a couple of each."

"That you did, my friend. As for you…" He bent down to Ginny and gave her a big hug. Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Thank you, Ms. Weasley, for being such a nice and good person." He winked at her as he pulled back.

_Wait a tick_, she thought curiously. _I thought he said he wouldn't-_

"I will see you both later," Bart said, gliding out of the kitchen. Ginny heard the front door slam shut and she and Harry were left alone with each other.

"Listen," she started while her nerves were up for it, "about the other day, I want to apologize. There's no excuse for what I did. I know that my being pregnant makes you uncomr-"

"I don't hate the baby, Ginny," Harry said earnestly, out of the blue. Ginny nearly dropped her fork to the ground. "I'm sorry if that's how it came across in your room. You just surprised me, is all, and I didn't react well to it. I got called in on a case yesterday and all day, all I was thinking was how horrible I'm being to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know how you must think that I can't stand the baby. I mean, I don't ever ask you about anything to do with the baby or how your appointments go. Hell, lately we don't ever talk about you being pregnant unless you or someone else brings it up. It's only because I don't know how involved you want me to be. You always say how you're doing this whole…thing," he waved clumsily at her stomach, "by yourself. I just started thinking that **you** felt more comfortable if I let you handle it on your own and I kept my distance."

"That's what I thought made **you** feel comfortable," Ginny said guiltily. "This isn't your baby and…and I thought that…I don't know. I just thought you see this baby as a symbol of everything I did wrong with my life and that the more I tried to talk to you about her, the more it brought up bad memories of-of our past for you."

Harry nodded slowly, playing around with the food left on his plate. "That is what happened when I thought of you being pregnant, at first. Especially after New York and even after you first arrived in Hastom. But then we talked about…about who her father was and how he wasn't going to be involved in her life. And something you said then finally clicked with me."

"What?"

"She's yours," Harry said simply, looking up at her. "She's yours and in the end, that **is** all that matters. She's the biggest part of your life and since you're a part of mine that means the baby is too. You are going to need some help taking care of her when she arrives and I want to be one of the people in your life that you can count on for that. So from now on, don't hold back with the baby on my account. If you want to talk about her or go shopping for her or you want company at your appointments with Nell…" He laughed quietly. "I'm sorry. I think I'm overcompensating a bit for the last month. The important thing for you to know is that whatever support you need, I'm here for you."

Ginny couldn't hold back the smile from her lips. It was something she had stopped hoping for, for Harry to accept the baby fully. He really did want to be her friend.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, praying he didn't notice the slight hitch to her breath. "Thank you. You're a wonderful man, Harry Potter."

_And you have absolutely no idea how much I love you._

Shaking her head, she smiled even brighter. Harry returned the grin in full, his thumb making a small circle on her hand. That wouldn't do, to say that out loud to him. So she settled for something a little less stirring. "A girl couldn't ask for a better mate in the world."

There, that would have to suffice for a declaration of love.

His eyes darkened ever so and he nodded firmly. "Well, let's eat up then." He released her hand quickly and went back to his own food. "I was thinking of seeing if the kids wanted to try to get an extra practice in. You can go over a few of those new plays you've designed for them and I'll work with Calvin on a feint."

"Sounds brilliant." She bent across the table to reach for the butter. The fabric of her pants tightened painfully and she was suddenly afraid to stand. "Say, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Were you serious about the shopping?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Welcome readers, to a New Year and a new chapter. This took a little bit longer to put together than I had wanted, but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be. Thanks as always to a fabulous group of betas who work their butts off to make sure this is readable and understandable to human beings. **

**The song used in this story does not belong to me, but rather to Brandi Carlisle. Download it if you don't know it because it's awesome!**

**Happy reading and I hope you all enjoy this!**

Ginny kneeled down beside the coffee table, her hand reaching underneath it to scrub at the wood with a soft rag. Above her, she could hear the shower running quietly. Outside the window the moon shone high in the sky, but she wasn't about to let her tiredness affect her resolve.

_Honestly_, she thought as she wiped furiously, _how can there be this much dust in one house? In the name of Merlin's saggy Y-Fronts, this is ridiculous! My mother never cleaned this much in a house with ten of us!_

Of course, her mother had the luxury of waving her wand and watching all the manual work be done for her by a cavalry of feather dusters and brooms.

Ginny shook her head and wrung out her rag in the soapy bucket before going back to the task at hand. Magic as a luxury. Well, the village Council would be pleased. She was truly starting to appreciate magic for the gift that they wanted her to believe it was. Bending back down, she started wiping down the table legs, swallowing a yawn that threatened to break free.

_None of that. This place needs to be cleaned. No rest until this house is immaculate or I pass out from exhaustion._

The last part didn't bother Ginny all that much. It allowed her to avoid going up to her bed to lay down, stare up at the ceiling when sleep wouldn't come no matter how heavy her eyelids were, and think about what would happen tomorrow…

The dying embers of the fire cackled to life and a familiar voice called out from the hearth.

"Hello? Harry? Ginny? Is anyone there?"

"I'm here, Nell," Ginny replied. Wincing as her back straightened, she crawled unsteadily on her knees until she reached the fireplace, bracing one hand on the stones for balance as she prodded the wood with the iron poker. The flames came back to life slowly and Nell's head appeared.

She frowned at Ginny. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"Cleaning. This house is a veritable pigsty."

"It's nine o'clock at night. Can't it keep until morning?"

"No, it most certainly cannot." Ginny wiped at her brow, feeling a smudge of dust cake onto her forehead. She was too tired to care.

"Ginny…"

"A filthy house is a breeding ground for bacteria and germs. Germs cause infections and any infection I get, the baby gets as well. As a licensed healer, shouldn't you happy that I'm being so proactive about my health?"

"Normally, yes. On the other hand, there are many definitions of health and I, for one, would not characterize forgoing much-needed sleep in order to dust furniture as a healthy choice."

Ginny sat back on her haunches. Every muscle in her body screamed their agreement at the good healer's assessment. "It's just so…**dirty**. Everywhere I look, something needs polishing or scrubbing. I want to clean all the time, even when I'm not awake. I have dreams about doing laundry, Nell. Laundry! What is wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing," Nell assured her. "It's the nesting instinct. Nearly every female mammal comes equipped with it. It's just another way of your mind preparing for the baby. You want your home to be in perfect order before the baby can arrive. It's perfectly natural."

"It's bloody ridiculous is what it is. I mean, it's not like the baby will be living here when she's born," Ginny replied. She looked down at the floor as she said it, frowning at how worn the dark wood looked.

"Well…your brain just doesn't know that, I suppose. Don't obsess over it." Nell smiled a little. "Listen, I just wanted to call and see if you two were busy tomorrow night. I have a bottle of fifty year-old elderflower wine for those of us who can partake in it and a box of ginger and hazelnut caramels from Honeydukes for you. What do you say? Come over for dinner at seven?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. Dinner shift tomorrow and we'll be busy with all the visitors coming in for the weekend." An unpleasant tingle began at the base of her neck and she shrugged it off. Her mind threatened to wander to a dangerous place so she asked, "What's the occasion?"

Nell didn't answer at first. "My wedding anniversary," she finally whispered.

"Oh," Ginny sighed. "I see."

Her friend rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Of course, Bart would be the type to have a trip to Austria scheduled to meet with an agoraphobic supplier who hasn't left his home in twenty-three years and who refuses to do business with any other member of the Millennium Falcon's staff. Tell me, did I really marry a man incapable of reading a calendar?"

"It's been planned for at least a month," Ginny reminded her quietly. "Klaus told me that Bart goes once every year around this time. You didn't remember?"

"No, Ginny, I didn't. I was a little busy spending my time lately alternating between cursing the day I married my husband and worrying that he was bleeding to death somewhere and that I'd never get the chance to tell him how much I loved him." Nell's blue eyes were murderous. "I wasn't really paying attention to the date."

"I'm sorry."

The fire in her eyes quelled instantly and her face softened. "No, **I'm** sorry. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just…I'm not really too keen on having Bart out of my sight again. Not when I just got him back."

It had been four days since Bart's return home. After he had left the cottage, no one had seen Bart or Nell for the rest of the day and when they finally did resurface in public, they had both been a little quieter, a little more subdued. Ginny supposed that it was a bit of grief for losing some of the idealistic innocence of their relationship. She felt terribly sad about what the couple was enduring. They were being given a harsh reminder that love in and of itself did not guarantee them everything they wanted in life.

It was a notion Ginny had no trouble relating to.

Neither she nor Harry was sure what the right path was to take with their friends as the Nixons began what could be a turbulent chapter in their marriage. They had discussed it at length and while they wanted to be there for their friends in this time of need, a subject as potentially divisive as whether or not to have children was something so fractious and personal that perhaps it was a case of it being best not to have too many chefs in the kitchen.

"I know." Ginny poked the wood once more. She couldn't help herself from asking, "How are you doing with everything?"

Nell shrugged listlessly. "As well as can be, I suppose. We're talking."

"That's good."

"It's not always pleasant at the moment, but we had to start somewhere."

"Look, I'm here for you if you need anything. I just, well Harry and I both wanted to give the two of you space to yourselves for a bit. Let things get settled and all before we stormed in with all our well-meaning advice and our ears ready for listening." Ginny reached her hand through and gently patted Nell's cheek through the Floo connection. "After all you've both done for us lately it's the least we could do for you."

"I appreciate that."

"Whenever you're ready, I'm here for you. Whatever you want or need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Can you get my husband to believe that he'll be a hundred times the father his was so we can start a family?"

Ginny shook her head sadly. "Sorry, luv. He's the only one who can do that."

"Then you can't get me what I want or need."

"I know." The baby stirred inside her at that moment. It hurt that her friend couldn't experience such a miracle for herself.

Nell's voice was soft steel as she spoke. "I love my husband, more than life itself. I'll never leave him. I couldn't survive not being married to him anymore. And if…if I have to find a way to live without children, then I can do that. For him. I just don't see how…Have you ever known something in your heart that you had no doubts about, no reservations at all?"

She thought back on the last few months and all the certainties it contained: keeping her child; that the baby she carried was a girl; that her daughter's name was Iris; that Hastom was the place in the world where she belonged; that she and Harry could be a part of each other's lives again.

"Yes," she replied.

"That's how I feel about having a child. I know that having a baby will be the best thing Bart and I could possibly do together and if we don't do it, we'll both regret it for the rest of our lives. I **know** that. I just can't make my husband see it."

"I think," Ginny began quietly, "that a part of him already does." She was loathe to betray Bart's confidences (even if he didn't remember them from his night of drunken confessions-a fact Ginny wasn't a hundred percent certain of) yet she also wanted to offer Nell a piece of hope. The poor woman's heartbroken face was desperate for it. "He told me a little about his childhood when he came home the other night and it was as awful as anything I can imagine. Wounds like that don't heal overnight. They need time and love and support. That's all you can do right now."

"He was pissed seven ways from Sunday when you found him, wasn't he? That's the only time he talks about his past in any detail."

"Yes," Ginny admitted, hoping Bart wouldn't get into any more trouble with his wife..

Amazingly, Nell smiled a little. "Did he start singing songs from _Les Miserables_?"

"Uh, no. Not to my knowledge."

"He played Valjean in a production of it in school. It's his favorite musical. Whenever he drinks a lot, he'll start singing _I Dreamed a Dream_ and he starts waltzing with the first person he can grab onto." She laughed outright. "It was quite hilarious the first time he did that with Harry."

"I'd like to see that."

"Just wait until the Christmas celebration. They pair of them drink enough Firewhiskey at that party to drown a hippogriff."

"Sounds like fun."

"It is." Nell's eyes narrowed slightly. "I hope Bart wasn't too much trouble when you found him. He tends to get a bit…chatty when he's really drunk and he doesn't always know when to shut his mouth."

"Don't worry. He didn't tell me any secrets you two have in the bedroom if that's what you're nervous about."

"No, no! Nothing like that." Even through the flames, Nell blushed beet red. "I just wondered if, um, he talked about…something else, that's all."

Instantly, Bart's slurred words over Harry's struggles came to mind. Ginny schooled her features as best she could into docility. "You mean something to do with me or Harry?"

"Not necessarily," Nell said quickly. Too quickly. Clearing her throat, she continued, "Did he, though?"

"Why do you think it's important?"

The brown-haired woman took a minute to filter her thoughts into words. "Because," she finally said, "there are things that my husband and I may or may not be privy to about you and Harry-"

"Like, maybe Harry struggling with something about me that I have no clue-"

"Switzerland."

"Nell, I just-"

"Switzerland."

"I want to know why-"

"Switzerland!"

"Stop that!" Ginny slammed her hand against the round stones of the fireplace, ready to spit out fire as days of frustration of trying to decipher what Bart had meant that night boiled over. "That stupid code word! I hate it! Did you ever stop and think that maybe **my** right to know about something that affects **me** overrides your desire to stay neutral?"

Nell wasn't fazed in any way by the brilliant flash of anger she had unintentionally ignited. "Did you ever stop and think," she began in a low, steady tone, "that maybe Harry's right to know who fathered your child overrides your desire to keep lying to him?"

"Shh!" She had heard the shower turn off a just few moments ago. Loud voices would attract Harry's attention and that was not something she wanted right now. Angrily, she turned back to Nell, the other woman's eyebrows raised in question. "That is not what I am doing and you know that! I'm-"

"Protecting him from being hurt, yes I know. I respect that even if I don't agree with your tactics. So have you considered that maybe that's all Bart and I are trying to do with our stupid code word? Protecting you and Harry both from something neither of you can handle yet?"

"Oh, that's what you're doing then? Protecting me? Keeping me safe and sound from whatever horrible thing that Harry's probably thinking about me but can't bear to say to my face? That's just wonderful of you, Healer Nixon! You're not my mother, you know!" She dabbed at the bit of moisture traitorously leaking out of her eyes.

"I do know that," Nell replied softly, her own eyes sympathetic. "But I am someone who loves you. As much as I would a sister." The warmth in her heart at hearing such words quenched Ginny's anger and she leaned against the fireplace a little more in support as her friend kept speaking. "And it's because I love you and Harry so much that I feel this need to keep you safe from things I know, in my heart, will hurt you. Things that you're not ready to hear just now. Things that Harry's not ready to hear just now. Things that will only further complicate an already vastly overcomplicated situation. I don't get some sick kick out of holding things back from you. I just think that the only way that things will be resolved between you two is if you figure them out for yourselves, without any undue influence or interference from a third party."

"Resolve what?" Ginny felt like she should know what that meant, but something in her mind drowned out the answer. "Harry and I are friends now, good friends. What else is there to resolve?"

Nell sighed in reply. "Switzerland."

"Right," Ginny mumbled.

"Listen, I'm sorry I got you so riled up tonight. I really just wanted to see if you and Harry wanted to keep me company tomorrow night."

"Well, I'm out. Working and all."

"What about Harry? Do you know if he has any plans?"

Ginny closed her eyes and leaned her head against the stone. "I'm pretty sure he's busy already."

"Really? Hmm…maybe I can steal him away from whatever he has planned. He's always loved any excuse to come over and muddle around in my kitchen."

"I don't think he'll want to pull himself away," she muttered quietly.

"What's so important that he doesn't want to come over and spend an evening drinking wine and rolling out pasta dough with a good friend while she bemoans the state of her marriage?"

"Remember the date, Nell. What's happening in Hastom tomorrow."

"The date? Tomorrow? It's the…the visitors…" Nell's eyes grew wide in understanding. "Oh. I see."

"Meredith's coming in the afternoon, I think," Ginny said, her voice dull and lifeless. All of the unpleasant thoughts she had been working to keep at bay, of how happy Harry was going to be to see Meredith after so long came flooding back. She pushed her finger through the small traces of duct and soot at the base of the fireplace. "I'm not sure. He waits until I'm in another room before he talks to her if she uses the Floo. Mostly she writes. I know what her owl looks like now. Damned bird won't come near me. I spotted a note from her yesterday though, before he could get rid of it. She's planning…planning to spend the night. Rather, the whole weekend."

"Well, it's not like you didn't know she would come back eventually. Her work can only keep her away so much and I'm sure that she and…that she wasn't satisfied with long lunches in the Ministry when Harry had time. You were going to run into her sooner or later."

"I would have preferred later."

"Are you going to be alright with being in the house while they're both-?"

"Could I spend the weekend at your place?" Ginny asked, meeting Nell's eyes. Knowing that Harry was in love with Meredith was one thing; to see it in action wasn't something she was strong enough to stomach yet, if ever.

"Of course you can. Just stop by after you get out of work. We can sit on the sofa, snuggle under a pile of blankets, and rue the day we ever thought boys were cute over a few pints of ice cream. Sound good?"

"Sounds sort of miserable and pathetic, truth be told," she replied with the best she could offer for a smile.

At least it was better than sitting up in her room while Harry and Meredith…

"I'll let you get some rest," Nell said. The fire began to dim as Nell began to close the connection. Before she disappeared, she had one more thing to say. "And no more cleaning. Go straight up to bed. Healer's orders."

"Goodnight, Nell." The fire cooled to ash and Ginny was alone.

The baby chose that moment to make her presence known. Iris tended to be quieter in the day, but at night, Ginny was treated to flutters and small feathery brushes against her womb. Every day, the movements felt a little bit stronger, her child growing steadily inside of her.

She rested her hands on top of her stomach and smiled as she stroked it. If nothing else in the world, she at least had this precious gift and whatever came of the next day or any after that, she was a woman rich beyond measure.

"Hey, what are you still doing down here?" Ginny looked up to find Harry hunched over the bannister with a towel around his neck to catch the water dripping from his hair. He smiled down at her.

"Just cleaning." She nodded at the forgotten bucket by the coffee table. "We live in squalor, you know."

"So you've been telling me the past few days." Harry walked down the rest of the stairs until he stood in front of her, holding out a hand. "Come on, the dust will still be here in the morning for you to obliterate."

"Okay." She took his hand in hers and let him pull her up. It was getting to be difficult to stand up and regain her balance. "I feel like I'm carrying one of Hagrid's rock cakes around my middle sometimes," she said over her shoulder as he followed her up the stairs.

"You don't look it. You look quite lovely, actually," Harry said, his voice almost a whisper. Thankfully, the hallway was dark so there was little chance he could see how scarlet the back of her neck burned at his simple compliment.

"Oh. Well, uh, thank you. That's sweet of you to say." They reached the top of the landing and she walked straight into her bathroom. "Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight." He went into his room across the hall from her.

She started to close the door, but stopped before she could. "Harry?"

"Yes?" He patted the towel through his hair as he turned to her, giving her a sweet little grin. The man really was too handsome for his own good.

"I-I just…"she stammered. She gripped the door knob tightly as she took in the delicious picture he made standing there, looking happy and peaceful as he prepared to lay his head down to rest in his bed…

_Knowing that tomorrow, he'll get to lay in that bed with the woman he loves. _

Harry stepped closer to her, leaning in and reaching around her to toss his towel into her hamper. "What is it, Gin?" he breathed near her ear.

"I just wanted to say," she swallowed back her frustration, "that I hope you and Meredith have a good time together this weekend. You've been apart for a while and I'm…I'm happy that you two will get to have a chance to see each other and re-reconnect, as it were. And you don't need to worry about Meredith being uncomfortable. I'll keep myself scarce so I don't intrude on anything."

_There_, she thought, struggling to keep her smile relaxed as she looked up into green eyes. _That wasn't so terrible, was it?_

Harry pulled back from her slowly, nodding to himself. "Um, well, uh thanks." He walked back towards his own door.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said again.

The door closing firmly behind him was his only reply.

"Okay," she whispered leaning against the counter a moment later. "It's all going to be fine. Okay." Collecting herself, she attended to her evening ablutions before retiring to bed. An hour later, she lay on her side, stroking her belly underneath the covers as sleep eluded her.

Meredith hadn't been back to Hastom since the evening of the petition. According to Harry, there had been an enormous excavation of troll artifacts in the South Pacific seas that Meredith was taking point on for the past several weeks. She had time for only quick afternoon jaunts to visit with Harry once or twice a week and occasional conversations through the Floo Network.

_That's a thing of the past now. Meredith will be available far more often now and I'm sure that Harry will be happier. That's what counts, Harry being happy._

Shaking her head, she shut her eyes and filled her mind with pleasant thoughts: The baby; her mother's daily (sometimes twice-a-day) letters of advice and encouragement; watching the children flying high in the air during Quidditch practice; Harry's look of pride when he read Andromeda's letter about Teddy's reading abilities; the taste of Harry's scrumptious fish stew; laughing with Harry as they looked at some of the ridiculous muumuus at the small maternity shop in the village the other day; Harry's smile; the delectable aroma coming off of him a short time ago, fresh from the shower, and looking down at her as if…

"Damn it!" she hissed, throwing the covers off as the room became unbearably warm. She got out of bed and paced around the room for a few moments to calm her racing heart. That line of thinking wasn't conducive to anything. Thinking of Harry like…like that would only cause more problems than they were worth.

Especially with his girlfriend arriving in about eighteen hours or so.

Ginny stopped short in her circuit around the room. "Clean something," she commanded out loud. Yes, that would help. That would keep her mind off things. Turning around, she searched for something to straighten or fold but was disappointed to find that her room was spotless.

_Oh, if Mum could see how neat I keep this place, she would weep with joy._

As quietly as she could, she left her room and tiptoed down the hallway. There had to be some corner of this house she hadn't tackled yet in her cleaning frenzy. The kitchen floor had been scrubbed to a shine; the bathrooms both positively reeked of lavender and jasmine, even Harry's; other than that blasted coffee table, the living room in perfect order; she still couldn't figure out the stupid washing machine without help and all of the dishes were-

Dishes! There it was. Turning on her heel, Ginny crept down the hall until she reached the door of Harry's study. Out of deference to her, he had eaten his Shepard Pie in his study alone that night. Hopefully there would still be a mess for her to tidy up and put her mind at ease. Creaking open the door, she flicked on the overhead light, wincing at the brightness. Harry had been kind enough to install electrical lights in the house upon her arrival to make it easier for her to get around the house at night.

Holding her breath in case the smell of beef was still lingering in the air, Ginny entered the small, wood-paneled room. She didn't spot any dishes left on the oak desk in the center of the room or anything that appeared out of order on the bookcase. The fireplace-large enough for conversations, too small for travel-looked virtually unused and the floor was uncluttered. From her spot near the door, she could see that loose papers and folders were piled on the desk chair. Promising herself that she wouldn't look at any of the documents, she headed to the desk, grateful that there was something she could organize and straighten.

_It smells like him_, she thought wistfully of the desk chair as she picked up papers and laid them on the desk. Of course it would. Harry was highly dedicated to his work as an Auror. It wasn't unusual to find him some mornings up before dawn, looking over case files and sending out correspondence. Ginny had overheard many conversations at the Burrow over the past few years where her father had pointed out that Harry was well on his way to becoming Head of the entire Auror Division.

_See, I did do the right thing by forcing him away. He's doing wonderfully at work, he's close to his friends, he's living in peace from the prying outside world, and he has a woman that he loves in his life. Everything worked out in the end._

For him. And for Ginny as well. There wouldn't be an Iris now if she hadn't left.

There would always be a tiny (or not-so-tiny) part of her that would wonder if perhaps there could have been a way to have an Iris with Harry instead of Lionel.

Some of the papers fell off the chair and Ginny bent low to retrieve them. When she went to stand up, she had to grasp onto the handle of one of the desk drawers to regain her balance. The drawer slid open and Ginny glanced down as she started to close it. Her heart forgot how to beat as she took in the sight.

Strewn among the normal clutter of desk rubbish was a black velvet jewelry box, big enough to hold only one item: a ring.

Without thought, she felt one of her hands reach into the drawer and pull the box out. She crumbled to the floor as her nerveless fingers pried the lid open. A gleaming diamond set in a thin gold band winked at her from its cozy confines. It was familiar, having seared itself into her brain the first moment she saw it: A persem diamond. The ultimate symbol of devotion between wizard and witch. Something inside her made her look down at the beautiful ring; whether morbid curiosity or chastisement, she wasn't sure.

_He's marrying her_, was the only thing her mind could process.

_He's marrying her. He's marrying. He's marrying her. He's marrying her. He's marrying her._

Outside of her consciousness, one of her fingers reached inside the box for the diamond. The second she touched the jewel, a flood of emotions washed over: Happiness, peace, hope, excitement.

But most of all, love.

Immediately she slammed the box shut and threw it back into the drawer before shutting it and standing up. Gathering up the forgotten papers, she stacked them back on the chair as she had found them. When everything in the room looked like it had been when she had walked in, she slipped out, shutting the light off and the door behind her. On shaking legs, she made it back to her own bed before she collapsed onto it in shock.

_All right_, she tried to tell herself_. This is good, remember? Meredith makes him happy and he's going to spend the rest…the rest…they'll be together for-_

Turning her head into her pillow, she sobbed into it until sleep granted mercy on her and her swollen eyes finally closed.

Standing in the kitchen the next morning, Ginny felt more at peace with her decision as she carefully pulled the fluffy chocolate cake out of the oven. Muggle cooking lessons with Harry and the kitchen staff of the Falcon were starting to pay off.

After a long night of fretful dreams and restless slumber, Ginny had come to the painful and ultimately simple conclusion that there was nothing to do but accept what was to be. No words she could say could overcome what he so obviously felt for Meredith Oxley. He was taking a step forward in his life, a step she was overjoyed that he was alive to even take. The only course of action from now on was support. Harry had been more than willing to do that with her lately and if Meredith was as dear to him as her child was to her, then she could find it in her to support his upcoming nuptials.

"You're a good friend," she whispered. "This is what good friends do for one another when one of them is about to pro-propose." The word was vile on her tongue, like a Bernie Bott's Bean that tasted of burnt charcoal. At least she could say it. That had to be a good sign. If she could say it, that must mean she could find a way to be happy about it.

Someday.

"What's all this?" Slowly, Ginny placed the cake on the counter to cool before she turned to face Harry's wide eyes. He was dressed for work in pressed slacks and a crisp white Oxford. As he was beginning to knot his tie, he gave her finished cake an approving smile. "Baking dessert for breakfast? If that's what you get to get away with when you're pregnant, sign me up."

Ginny managed a tepid grin. She forced as much cheer into her voice as possible as she said, "No, it's not for me. It's for you. And Meredith also. For tonight, I mean. I just got up early to make it."

Harry's brow immediately furrowed and his hands dropped the fabric around his neck. "Beg your pardon?"

"I know that you have to work until almost six so you probably didn't have time to get anything together for dinner so I baked this for you." Washing her hands at the sink, she kept her back to him as she prattled on. "Not that…not that you'll eat just this, mind you. When I get to work, I'm also arranging for Borvan to prepare a dinner for the both of you that'll be sent over here. I think I heard you say once that Meredith liked lobster so I thought you'd both enjoy that. Or do you want something else? Something more…romantic?"

"Romantic?"

"Like oysters or…what's another food that's romantic? That's a strange way to think of food, isn't it? As romantic. Like it has feelings and emotions and whatnot."

"Ginny, what are you doing?"

She steeled herself as she shut off the water. The grin she forced on her face felt painted. "Doing something nice for you, of course. That's what friends do."

Harry took a slow step towards her. Ginny tucked her hands behind her back to keep them from reaching out to him.

"This isn't necessary, Ginny. I-I didn't want you to do this…to go through this kind of trouble for-"

"Well, I didn't find it necessary for you to open your house up to me but you did," Ginny interrupted. "I'm just trying to repay the favor in a small way."

"There's nothing to repay." Harry inched closer to her until she had to lean against the sink less she find her nose pressed into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The bump of her belly was a hair's breadth from brushing against him. "You're not any kind of trouble or…or inconvenience to me. I knew when you applied for citizenship that you'd have to live here with me. I…I wanted you here with me."

"Yes," she agreed weakly. "Here with you in Hastom. So we could be friends again." With a mind of their own, Ginny's hands slowly came up between them. She heard Harry take in a soft, shaking breath as she did. Before her defenses caved, she took control of her wayward appendages and held the discarded ends of Harry's tie with them. She focused all her physical energy and her eyes on finishing the knot as she continued. "I will never be able to put into words what it means to me that you want to be friends. That was something that was beyond any dream I dared to have. Especially considering what, uh, I brought along with me."

"The baby…?"

"I don't imagine most men in this world would be capable of being so accommodating to a pregnant ex-girlfriend," she tried to joke as her phony smile edged higher before it slipped to a thin line. Slowly, she twisted the fabric around, trying her best to make sure her fingers didn't brush against Harry's chest as he held himself rigidly still. "But not you, Harry. I should have known how exceptional you'd be in that regard. It's who you are. You have quite possibly the biggest heart of anyone in this world. You can't abide letting a damsel in distress go without trying to help. Even if you had trouble standing the sight of her when she first needed saving."

"Ginny, you…you have never been a damsel. You've never needed me to save you and that's not why-"

"Oh, I think we can both name a time or two that I needed you to rescue me."

"I wanted you here, you and whatever else you brought along in my life because-"

"You're my friend," Ginny said firmly, daring to meet his eyes as she tightened the knot. He blinked down at her, clearly at a loss, so she pressed on. "And I'm yours. Friends…are there for each other and are happy for each other's successes, whether they're professional or personal; they make the extra effort to show their gratitude for having such wonderful people in their lives; and they make chocolate cake because it's a nice thing to do. That's what friendship is."

Giving his tie one final tug, she slipped past him to retrieve her cake. Gently, she picked it up and put it the fridge, keeping her eyes away from Harry's unmoving form. "So there's a fudge sauce for this in the fridge. You should warm the cake for a few minutes before you put the sauce on so it melts properly. I'll have Borvan send the dinner through the Floo around, uh, eight or so? Is that all right."

Harry was slow to answer from his spot at the sink. "Yeah," he finally said. "Eight o'clock is good."

"And I'm…I'm spending the night at Nell's place. Bart's going out of town for a meeting and she and I thought we could have a girl's night in or something."

"Okay." Harry began buttoning up the front of his work robes. "That works out great, actually. It'll be nice to have an evening here with just Meredith." With a sure stride, he walked over to the fruit bowl and took an apple, almost dislocating his jaw with the huge bite he chewed from of it. "Actually," he said seriously as he chewed around his food, "maybe I'll rent a room for us at the Green Swallow for the rest of the weekend. So we can be completely alone the entire time."

Ginny felt the meager breakfast she had eaten bubble over in her stomach. "Oh," she said quietly, adjusting one of Teddy's colorful plastic magnets on the fridge. "Don't you, uh, think that it's a bit short notice? For Mrs. Nettles? With all of the, uh, other guests this weekend?"

Harry took another gigantic bite before tossing the remainder into the rubbish bin. "She's always had a soft spot for me, plus she always keeps a spare room open for emergencies. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to toss me a room key. After all, I consider Mrs. Nettles a friend and that's what friends do: Help each other out in a pinch."

"Well, then you should ask her."

"Then I will ask her. Hope you have a great day, Ginny." Harry strode to the backdoor to leave for the work. Just before he closed it, he slowly came back in and caught her eye. "Ginny?" he said softly.

"Yes Harry?"

He studied her for the longest moment. Ginny felt like she was being examined by one of those x-roy things Hermione had once told her about. He could see every part of her. No doubt, he could see what she was trying so desperately to hide from him.

A part of her was close to begging for him to see what she was struggling not to say.

Just as she was about to ask him what on Earth he was looking for, he took his green eyes from hers and started to slowly close the door. "Thank you. For…For arranging our dinner and making us a cake. It was nice of you to do."

"It was my pleasure." Giving him a plastic grin, she waved goodbye as the door shut firmly behind him. Harry stood still for a few seconds before she watched as he nodded to himself once and walk to the Apparition point.

That evening, the pub was filled to the brim with a lively crowd of regulars and guests. The ale flowed freely from the taps amidst the raucous laughter and a three-part band played a series of jaunty tunes that kept the small dance floor packed with couples.

Ginny did her best to remain distracted. There was an abundance of cleaning she could do here, enough to satisfy whatever demon of neatness that had taken possession of her soul. Not to mention all of the customers needing to be fed and filled with alcohol. Surely here, in this room, her mind could be kept occupied for the night.

The wall clock read 7:55. The dinner of garden salad, stuffed mushrooms, and lobster would be leaving the queue in a few moments to travel through the Floo Network back to the cottage, where Harry would take it for himself and Meredith. If they were even eating tonight. Maybe in the excitement of the moment, they would forgo dinner and commence celebrating their happy news right in the living room.

_Which, in my cleaning rampage, I made totally spotless for them._

"Excuse me, miss?" Shaking out of her daze, she stared down at the table full of hungry patrons curiously looking up at her with raised eyebrows. Her elbows started to buckle and she realized she had been holding up a tray full of hot food for quite longer than necessary.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny apologized. Hastily, she put the food down in front of them. "Please forgive me. I'll…I'll bring you over some fresh rolls for the trouble." Grimacing, she walked over to the bar to drop her tray off and take a moment to collect herself.

_Get it together, Weasley. This is what I wanted for him. It does him no good if you're losing your mind while's he's…he's-_

Someone grasped her shoulders and pulled her around. Biting back her scream, she found Nell standing in front of her, wild-eyed and already in flannel pajamas.

"Ginny? What's wrong? Are you in pain? Is there any bleeding? Sit down, let me look you over!"

"Nell, what-?"

"I'll send my Patronus to St. Mungo's and then I'll have someone get us an emergency Portkey from Sapien! He always has some handy!"

"Hold on for just a-"

"Tell me where you're hurt so I can help you!"

"Nell!" Taking the other woman's shoulders, Ginny shook her to snap her out of whatever lunacy had taken over her. "Good grief, woman! What are you going on about? I'm fine, perfectly fine."

Nell took a deep breath in and looked Ginny up and down. "Really?" she asked meekly.

"Really." Mindful of the eyes of several people on them, Ginny led Nell to a somewhat quiet corner. "Why did you think I was in some sort of distress?"

"Because of this." Nell reached inside her shirt and pulled a piece of parchment out from under her bra strap. "This owl flew in and dropped it right in my bowl of rum raisin ice cream. It said to come here, to the pub, at once."

"And you assumed that it meant something was wrong with the baby?"

"I didn't assume anything. I was too busy running around, trying to find something to put on my feet while trying to remember the spells I would need to use to stabilize you until we could get to a hospital. Argh!" Walking back to the bar, Nell signaled to Klaus to get her a drink before she put her head on the countertop.

"Well, if nothing else, I'm glad to know you have such an excellent response time in case of an emergency," Ginny said as she brushed Nell's tangled hair back with her fingers.

"I had excellent training," was Nell's muffled reply. Klaus placed a shot glass full of amber-colored liquid in front of her and she lifted her head to down it quickly. Hissing, she signaled for a refill which she drank as fast as the first. She turned back to Ginny and smiled. "It's my anniversary today."

"I know. You told me yesterday." A movement near the stage caught Ginny's eye and she rose to her tiptoes, trying to see why the crowd was clapping loudly near the band that had just stopped playing.

"Today, I have been married for five years," Nell said matter-of-factly.

"Uh-huh." The crowd finally thinned enough for Ginny to see a man with familiar dark hair sitting at the piano. Looking around Nell, Ginny's heart turned over as she recognized who was preparing to play.

"Five mostly wonderful years filled with happiness and fabulous sex in numerous locations."

Clearly, there had been a high ratio of rum to raisins in the ice cream her friend had been eating before her arrival, in addition to the two shots she had drunk already. That would account for the looseness of her lips. Ginny bit back a smile and tapped Nell's shoulder to try and get her attention. "Nell…"

"I will have you know that my husband and I have committed acts of fornicating nature," she rapped the bar with knuckles, "right here on this very spot."

"Nell, turn around," Ginny urged her.

"I am a good wife to Bart Nixon yet where is he on our anniversary? He's-"

"Right behind you." Taking her slightly tipsy friend's shoulders in hand, Ginny turned her to face the stage, where the applause was just starting to die down. Bart caught sight of them from his perch and smiled sheepishly.

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"My husband's sitting at that piano, right?"

"That he is."

"Just making sure."

Bart waved his hand and a microphone materialized in the air. He tapped it to get the attention of the rest of the room.

"Hello," he said. "I am the proud owner of this humble establishment and I want to thank you all for being here tonight on my and my wife's fifth wedding anniversary." He cleared his throat a little. "The last month or so of my life has been a bit of challenge. I kind of feel like the rug got pulled out from under me at times. But through all of it, I know how truly lucky I am because I am married to the most wonderful woman imaginable." A few in the crowd broke out in sighs of endearment. Ginny glanced at Nell's face and saw happy tears welling in the woman's eyes, totally oblivious to the stares she was receiving from all around as she hung on her husband's words. "There may be better men in this world; men who could offer her every luxury and build monuments to her. For some reason that I have never been able to understand, she chose me. I, uh, I know lately I may have done things that made you regret that choice, Babe, and I apologize for that from the bottom of my heart. I swear to you though that no other man in the world could ever love you as much as I do."

Nell sniffed loudly and ducked her head down to hide her tears. Ginny edged back a little to let her friend collect herself. She had a feeling that whatever Bart had planned would be a doozy of an anniversary present.

She was right.

Bart began playing a sweet melody on the piano. After a few bars, he began to sing.

_All of these lines across my face  
>Tell you the story of who I am<br>So many stories of where I've been  
>And how I got to where I am<em>

But these stories don't mean anything  
>When you've got no one to tell them to<br>It's true, I was made for you

I climbed across the mountaintops  
>Travel across the ocean blue<br>I cross over lines and I broke all the rules  
>And baby I broke them all for you<p>

Oh because even when I was flat broke  
>You made me feel like a million bucks<br>You do, I was made for you

Bart stood up from the bench and grabbed the microphone. The piano continued to play the song as if he were still there. The crowd cleared a space for him as he made his way to where his wife sat. When he finally stood in front of her, he took her cheek in his hand and sang directly to her.

You see the smile that's on my mouth  
>It's hiding the words that don't come out<br>All of the friends who think that I'm blessed  
>They don't know I'm in this mess<p>

No they don't know who I really am  
>And they don't know what I've been through<br>Like you do, and I was made for you

All of these lines across my face  
>Tell you the story of who I am<br>So many stories of where I've been  
>And how I got to where I am<p>

Oh but these stories don't mean anything  
>When you've got no one to tell them to<br>It's true, I was made for you  
>Oh yeah, and it's true that I was made for you<p>

The entire pub erupted into hoots and wild applause as Bart finished the last note, but Ginny could easily see from her perch a few steps behind them that the Nixons had eyes only for each other.

"You're a complete tosser," Nell murmured to him, leaning her forehead against his as the patrons gave the three friends a fairly wide a berth.

"No arguments from me," he replied.

"I'm still mad at you." Bart ran his thumb under her wet eyes. "Just because you get all charming and priceless on our anniversary doesn't mean that you…disappearing and scaring me out of my mind goes away like it never happened."

"I know."

Nell raised her chin defiantly, wiping her runny nose with her long shirt tail. "And I still want a baby. That's not something I can just ignore because you think you'll end up like your father. Which, by the way, I know you won't."

Bart pulled back a bit. Nell wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close.

"I'm not there yet," he said. "I wish I had the faith in me that you do, but I don't." He put his finger on Nell's lips when she opened her mouth to protest. "However, if you're willing to give me just a little more time to get used to this drastic change in our plans, then I am willing to believe that on this subject, like all things, you are probably right."

Nell looked overcome with happiness. She seemed unable to move or blink for a second. Ginny couldn't help herself.

"Just kiss him already!" Ginny whispered loudly to her friend, dabbing her own eyes.

Nell pulled her husband to her and crushed her lips to his. Ginny smiled widely and moved closer to the kitchen to give them their privacy.

_Thank goodness that's settled. Although given the fact that anniversary/make-up sex seems to be in the cards for Nell, I'm going to need to find another place to stay tonight…_

"Ginny?" an unfamiliar voice asked quietly from behind her.

Assuming it was someone in need of service, Ginny turn to face them with a cheerful smile on her face. Tip money would be helpful to try to bribe Mrs. Nettles with if Harry had gotten to the inn already. Her stomach dropped to her knees when she saw who it was.

"Meredith." The blonde nodded in greeting, her face serious and her eyes a little red. The only possible reason for Meredith being here, looking as she did, occurred to Ginny and she felt faint. "Ha-Harry? Is he hurt? Did something happen to him?"

"Harry…" The other woman closed her eyes and smiled tightly. "Harry is perfectly fine and was sitting in the living room when I left a few minutes ago." Ginny nearly sagged in relief. She almost missed Meredith's next words. "I just came by to tell you that you're free to go back to your house. I'm leaving tonight."

"What?" Against her will, she glanced down to Meredith's left hand. There was no ring on it. Her mind couldn't settle on ecstasy or confusion. "What are you-?"

"Don't worry," Meredith picked up a bag and pulled it over her shoulder, "because we won't need to go through any of these ridiculously awkward encounters ever again. I ended things with Harry. We're not together anymore. Something in me just had to be the one to tell you. I don't even know why." She turned around and began edging her way out of the crowded pub. "Good night."

Ginny could have been given a thousand-no a **million** guesses-as to how her night would end, and never would she have been able to even contemplate that Meredith would come to the pub and tell her that she was breaking up with Harry.

_Harry,_ she thought in a daze._ He was pro…She can't just…_

Taking off like a shot, Ginny pushed her way out onto the street to find Meredith several paces ahead. Racing forward, she ran until she was standing in front of Meredith, her lungs and knees protesting viciously.

"Wait," she said. Ginny held up her hands as she tried to catch her breath. "Y-You can't do this. You don't know what-"

"Ginny, please don't make this any harder." Meredith tried to walk around her only to have Ginny take her shoulders.

"No, stop! You cannot do this to Harry! He has lived through enough hurt in his life, he doesn't deserve this!"

"Let go of me!"

Ginny relinquished her grip but didn't move out of the way. "Please," she begged, "please do not put him through this. I know…I know I have absolutely no right to lecture anyone on relationships with Harry, but…I don't want him hurt like this again. And…and…and you'll regret this. Just please take a minute to stop and consider how much he loves you before you do something like this-"

"Stop." All of Meredith's icy anger melted from her face as she tiredly held up one hand. "Just stop it. I can't do this anymore, with either of you. And the worst part is I can't even be mad at you because you don't even realize what you're doing."

"Whatever you think is going on between me and Harry, you're wrong! There's nothing between us but friendship!"

Meredith stared at her like she had Devil's Snare growing from her roots instead of hair.

"No," Meredith said simply. "That's not all there is. The two of you are just so unbelievably stubborn…" She sighed. "Even before you came back into his life, I knew, deep down, that there was something missing between me and Harry. I always had to move first when it came to our relationship: First date, first kiss, first night together." Ginny grimaced slightly at the idea, but kept her eyes locked on Meredith's. "I always had to lead him. I thought he just needed time to…to get over you trampling all over his heart. I loved him enough; I could wait it out. But then you come strolling along, pregnant by another man, and he can't stop himself from opening up his doors and giving you your own bathroom and making dinner for you at night. It really shouldn't surprise me, it's what he wanted all along: To be with you again.

"I love Harry very, very much." Tears were brimming in her eyes but she was clearly trying her best to make sure they wouldn't fall. Not now at least. "I used to think that nothing in the world would have made me happier to be his wife and have a family with him. I…I hope I can find a way to get over him, but even if I can't, I'd still rather leave now than stick around and see that look in his eyes he gets whenever I hear him say your name."

"I swear to you, Meredith, Harry has been faithful to you. He's never said or done anything to make me think he has…that he wants…" Ginny couldn't even visualize such a scenario.

"That he's been faithful, I have no doubts," Meredith said. "He's not that type of man. I know that. But as for him not saying or doing anything to tell you how much he loves you, I'm afraid I highly doubt that. You just haven't been playing close enough attention." She shrugged. "Now you can, without feeling guilty over it." Meredith walked past wearily and Ginny couldn't find the wherewithal to try to stop her. "Please do us all a favor and take your own advice: Don't hurt him again."

There were so many things Ginny wanted to shout at Meredith:

_You daft, blonde twit! Don't you realize what you're throwing away? He has a PERSEM DIAMOND made for you and you are just walking away as if it's the easiest decision you've ever made in your life! I know you hate me, but can't you at least recognize that maybe I might understand the ramifications of the choice you're making now better than you do? He will find a way to move on from this but you won't! He's Harry Potter, for goodness sakes! Women will cut off their grandmother's right arm to be with him. You think if you live a thousand years, you will do better than him?_

None of this was said out loud; it couldn't be. Ginny was too busy playing back Meredith's last piece of conversation and she found one point in particular sticking over and over again.

"Why does she think he loves me?" Ginny whispered to herself.

The cooling night air offered her no answers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Here we are, another chapter in our little adventure. I know that the updates are taking a little longer, but I think the quality of it is still strong, which is what counts. Thanks as always to a great group of betas. I couldn't do any of this without you guys. Please enjoy and please review, if you would be so kind!**

_Dear Insufferable Gits Whom I Call Brothers,_

_I have the same news to give to the lot of you so all of you are getting the same letter. Please bear in mind as you're reading this that I am a grown woman and I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I do not need any of you to come barreling in to try to fix things for me. It would be pigheaded, childish, and I'd have to wring the necks of anyone who tried. I love you all and while I know what are sure to be the rather, shall we say, intense reactions from you all comes from a good place, any meddling on your part will cause me nothing but grief and frustration. Which are things that I can do without now in my life._

_Because I'm pregnant. The father is not involved and I'll be raising my baby as a single mother._

_Sit down if you need to, pour a glass of Firewhiskey if you want one, and if you feel the irrepressible urge to scream, then please do so away from any of my nieces and nephews (Bill, Percy, and George, that was directed towards you three unless Charlie and Ron are keeping even more secrets than me)._

_I know this isn't easy for any of you to hear. It wasn't easy for me to accept when I first found out. And I know it wasn't what any of you wanted for me but it is what Fate has given to me. I'm happy, tremendously happy to know that I will become a mother, and I hope in time you will too._

_There will be no more mention of the father on my part from this point on. I will not tell you his name and offer you no more information on him than what I am telling you now. I conceived during a one-night stand with a man not suited in any way for fatherhood. He will never be a part of my daughter's life and I do not wish to discuss him with anyone. That is final._

_The pregnancy is the real reason why I'm no longer playing Quidditch. Obviously, it's no longer safe and I doubt very much if I'll go back after the baby is born. For now I'm working as a waitress in a pub with a great group of people. I'm earning enough to support myself so if I receive even one Galleon from any of one you, I'll take those Galleons and stick them in places none of you will appreciate!_

_Of course, it'll still be quite some time before I can see any of you again. I'm perfectly healthy, nothing is wrong with the baby that's preventing me from traveling; I just can't because of a stipulation in my living arrangements for about another three months or so. _

_Because I've chosen to become a citizen of Hastom and that requires me to remain in the village's borders during my trial phase of six months. _

_Please follow my earlier instructions as to sitting, drinking, and not shouting in front of small children._

_I know all the same stories you know from growing up: Hastom makes Azkaban look like a stay on the enchanted Spanish island of Giama; trolls waged endless wars on the blood red fields of the village; practitioners of the darkest forms of magic would dare not even say its name out loud in fear of something far more evil than they could comprehend. Believe me, I know all the tales and I can assure you that they are just that: Tales dreamed up by silly, misguided people who could never understand what this place really means. Hastom is beautiful and filled with beautiful people and a wonderful energy of pure magic. There is nothing to fear here. _

_It's my home. It's the place in the world where I am truly at peace for the first time in longer than I care to remember. I hope you can all come here someday and see it for yourselves._

_Mum and Dad already know all my news. I asked them not to say anything until I found the nerve to tell you all. I'm sorry I've kept such news from you for so long but I needed time to get used to everything myself. That, and I've been scared out of my bloody mind with how my big brothers would handle what my life has become. _

_Please, I beg all of you, don't let my fears come to fruition. I love you all desperately and I need your support now more than ever. I know I haven't always behaved as a sister should, especially these last few years, but I will spend every day of my life trying to make up for the distance I put between myself and my blood._

_I hope to hear from you all soon and that all is well in your worlds._

_With Love,_

_Gin_

Before she could second guess herself for the twenty-fifth time, she handed the five sealed envelopes over to the expectant clerk behind the counter of the post office.

Mr. Geloff smiled at her, his wiry grey hair standing on end as if an electric current was running through him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely?"

Ginny chewed her bottom lip. She reached her hand out to take the letters back from Mr. Geloff's grip but sanity claimed her in the nick of time and she tucked her hand back into her pocket.

"Yes. I'm sure."

"Very well then." With a nod, Mr. Geloff whistled sharply three times; a hoot answered him back from high above. A moment later, five tawny owls flew down to the desk through a small hole in the ceiling. They stood tall together on a wide perch as Mr. Geloff handed a letter to each of them before moving to open the small window. He turned to Ginny again with his eyebrows raised.

"Last chance, my dear."

She couldn't blame him for asking so many times. After all, she had come in here at least a dozen times in the last month or so (ever since she had heard back from her parents) to mail off the letters to her brothers, only to turn around or change her mind every single time. The poor post master had been very patient with her as she dealt with her indecision and fear. Ginny would never contradict him if he thought her to be completely off her rocker.

"Thank you, sir, but please send them," she replied, inching towards the door and turning to exit to the street as she heard the window open and the birds take flight.

_There_, she thought, wrapping her light shawl a little tighter around her shoulders as the cool wind of September brushed past her. _It's done. Now…I'll just wait and see._

The news was so huge though that she couldn't help but feel like her heart would burst through her rib cage when she thought of sharing the news of her new home and the baby with her brothers. It wasn't as if they were a group of Neanderthals who believed that she still kept her virtue intact; clearly, that image had been obliterated during a Christmas dinner her last year home from school when Charlie had interrupted a rather heated (and partially unclothed) moment between her and Harry in the broom shed, nor did she believe that they would have any moral objections to her having a child out of wedlock. Her brothers were no angels after all; little Freddie had been nestled in Molly Weasley's arms, barely six weeks old, when George and Angelina had exchanged their vows. Of course, they'd be upset that Ginny was becoming a mother on her own, but she knew in their hearts they'd accept it.

Accepting the Hastom part of the equation was another thing entirely.

The mysterious village had been a source of fright in the Weasley household, for as long as Ginny could remember. Charlie had been particularly relentless with his wild tales, told underneath blanket forts late at night, his eyes steely and probing as his siblings hung on his every word about the vile creatures and treacherous beasts that roamed Hastom. Nearly every child in the magical world was similarly brought up to believe Hastom to be a land of horrors. As Ginny and her brothers grew older, the tales faded into childhood, but the irrational fear that came along with them did not. She knew firsthand that when George and Fred first opened the shop they had chosen not to hire someone because the young man had been born in Hastom. Bill would walk into ancient crypts and tombs to search for treasures, but upon the offer to examine some pieces that had (supposedly) come from Hastom, he turned down the offer flat. And for all his bravado, Ginny was certain that Charlie would sooner take a wife—something he considered to be a sentence in Azkaban—than set foot in Hastom.

With all that though, Ginny knew that Ron would have the hardest time of all.

Ron had always been the one in the family who took the stories about Hastom to heart, especially when it came to Bill or Charlie telling them. But it was more than that. Ron was always someone who carried fear in his heart. It never stopped him from being a wonderful man who loved with everything inside him or from running into danger and risking his own life if the cause called for it, but that fear left a mark on him. One of the strongest marks was about Hastom. Having been told his whole life that Hastom was the embodiment of darkness, he carried such prejudice for Ginny's new home that she was fairly certain he would not—could not—overcome it.

"There is no goodness in Hastom," he had once famously argued with Hermione during a family dinner when the subject came up as a joke in conversation at the table. Hermione, having been raised Muggle, had no concept of the place and wondered out loud whether there really could be somewhere that was entirely evil. Ron finally cut her off her questions, throwing his fork down on the table and pushing his plate away from him. That drew the table's attention. For one, Ron had pushed away a plate with food still on it. The look in his eyes convinced his family that the situation was not humorous. It was the quiet, calm way he spoke that kept everyone silent.

"That place," he began, speaking directly to Hermione's wide eyes, "is darkness personified. It's hidden away from everyone else in the world and no one from there speaks of it, if they even have the backbone to tell you that that's where they're from. Why would they go to all that trouble if Hastom is nothing more than a quaint little magical village? You're a smart girl, 'Mione. You know that the only reason could possibly be that Hastom is decidedly **not** a quaint little village but something much more sinister."

"They didn't side with Voldermort in the war," Hermione tried to argue gently, visibly thrown for a loop by Ron's reaction. "That has to count for something."

"And they didn't fight for us which tells me that they are not on the side of the Light. Anyone who's not for that, I want nothing to do with. That includes anyone or anything to do with Hastom." He resumed his dinner then, saying nothing more on the subject as everyone exchanged quick glances and went back to their meal.

His words that day had stamped themselves onto Ginny's heart and she hoped with all her soul that choosing to live here would not cost her a brother. To lose another one would be unbearable.

Walking slowly through the village, she took in the sights and sounds of the peaceful Friday afternoon. Many of the children had begun school, either at home with their parents or at the small schoolhouse, so the streets were filled with adults as autumn was making her presence known: The leaves were beginning to turn a rich cornucopia of oranges and reds, a few already billowing down to the ground at her feet. She carefully squatted low and picked one up, turning the stem over and over in her hand.

This time next year, Iris would be in her arms. The baby would be able to smile and laugh by then, according to the books Ginny was reading. She may even be getting ready to crawl. Ginny could take the baby outside, bundled up nice and warm, and let her roam through piles of leaves, watching with wonder as Iris found the sound of their crinkling and cracking to be the funniest noise she had ever heard before they went back inside the warmth of their little house.

Unconsciously, Ginny found herself in front of a tiny patch of land nestled between the bakery and the edge of the market street, close to the western part of village square.

Her home. Or rather where her home would stand.

New citizens, unless they could afford more spacious land (like Harry), where given the smallest plots of land in the village to build their homes on until they could afford to move to a larger plot. The house would be erected with magic after—rather, if—the town voted to approve her citizenship at the end of January. With her pay at the pub, she wouldn't be able to afford to move for quite some time. She smiled sadly to herself at the thought that her daughter wouldn't have her own trees to climb or rocks to hide her trinkets under like Ginny had growing up.

_We don't need that much space. It'll only be the two of us after all. She and I will make do_, Ginny tried to reassure herself.

Why was that particular thought less than a comfort?

"Hey Coach Weasley!" Ginny broke free of her sudden pensiveness to look down at the small round face of Norea Alverez. The little girl's long raven hair was wind swept and her dark eyes were alight with glee. "Are you going down to the pitch now? Are we having practice early today? Can I go with you?"

Ginny smiled easily and put her hand on Norea's shoulders to stop her bouncing. "Practice is at three o'clock today and what you need to do is go home and grab something to eat so you have enough energy to pass the Quaffle around." Turning her around, Ginny started leading her back to the Alverez home.

"But I want to go now!" The impish grin on the child's face brought forth a sudden burst of laughter from Ginny. "Quidditch is the best game in the whole wide world! I just want to play it all the time, even when I'm sleeping!"

"Well if you really feel that way, you need to keep working hard during practice so when you get older, you can try out with a professional team someday. Like I did."

"Do you miss playing Quidditch at all?" Norea asked innocently.

Ginny thought of how the wind felt whipping past her cheeks; the weight of the Quaffle in her hand or tucked carefully into her side; the dull roar of the crowd that seemed hardly noticeable during the game but that the minute the Snitch was caught roared like cannon fire in her ears. She was silent for a moment. The baby fluttered gently and Ginny laid her free hand on her belly.

"Do you know how you just said that you wanted to play Quidditch all the time?"

"Uh-huh."

"That means that you love it very much, maybe even with your whole heart."

"I do. Even more than my Enchantress Esmeralda doll and peppermint ice cream put together!"

"And that's wonderful. But when you get older—much, much older—you may find that there are things or people that you love even more than playing Quidditch. There's always probably going to be a part of you that wants to be up in the sky, but hopefully you'll find things in this world that make you want to keep your feet on the ground more often than not." They arrived at Norea's home and Ginny nudged her towards the smiling woman waiting in the open door. "Now go have some of your Mum's oatmeal and be ready to fly the next time I see you. We've got a lot to do to get ready for the game on Saturday."

"Okay," the child replied, scampering forward to her house. "Bye Coach Weasley!"

"Bye sweetheart." Glancing down at her watch, she found it was a little later than she had thought and hurried back to Harry's house to change. As much as she didn't want to, her steps began to slow as the lake came into view and the prospect of seeing Harry started to come to fruition.

Seeing Harry hadn't been an issue lately given how much he went of his way to avoid her.

It was almost like her first weeks in Hastom all over again. No, not exactly.

It was worse.

Because this time, she knew how good things **could** be between them and had been before Harry retreated back into himself after Meredith had ended their relationship. He worked longer hours at the Ministry and when he was in Hastom, he was off with Bart or barricaded in his office. Interaction between the two them was kept to a minimum. It was maddening at times. Their situation hadn't been ideal since her arrival; it could be downright challenging at times, but they had moments of peace and most of them took place in their—**Harry's**—house. It used to be a place, the one place, where they really made sense. Not lately. And as much as she'd like to, she couldn't lay all of the blame at Harry's feet.

Did she seek out his company when he was in the house with her? No.

Did she suggest to Bart or Nell that the four of them get together for dinner? No.

Did she leave polite, friendly notes for him when she knew she'd leave the house before him? No.

Did she avoid him as much as possible because she felt extremely guilty for the role she had unwittingly played in ending a relationship that was so important him?

No…comment.

When she'd made her way back to the house the night Meredith broke up with Harry, she had been fully prepared to be supportive and to even try to help him find a way to win Meredith back, if that was what Harry wanted to do and if that wasn't what he was in the mood for, she'd nicked a bottle of over two-hundred-year-old Ogdens from the bar for him to drown his sorrows in. But he had already been up in his room when Ginny had arrived. He hadn't been at breakfast the next morning or lunch or dinner. It was the same the next day as well. When she finally caught a glimpse of him two days later, his eyes were bloodshot and haggard and didn't hold hers for longer than a few seconds before he hastily left the room for work. The message in his haunted eyes was quite clear, though:

If you care about me at all, please stay away. I can't be around you right now.

When they did manage to find themselves in the same place at the same time (like at Quidditch practice) they were careful to maintain distance. They spoke in as few sentences as possible and always gave the other a wide berth. It was lonely, no doubt, but Ginny understood the necessity of it for the moment. He needed time to heal from this latest in a long line of losses and she needed time to reflect as well.

Truth be told, as much as she despised the silence between her and Harry, she was simultaneously a little bit relieved at the distance he put back between them in recent weeks.

If she didn't have to be around him all the time, she didn't have to hear Meredith's words from that night over and over again in the back of her mind.

Of course that theory was a bit flawed seeing as how Ginny wasn't around him much anymore and she still heard Meredith's words over and over again in the back of her mind.

_Just because she said them doesn't make them true_, Ginny tried to convince herself as she walked gingerly up the stone pathway to the house. _Meredith was probably just…just…just gripped in a bout of insanity, that's all. I mean, for Merlin's sake, she broke up with Harry! Who in their right mind would—okay, fine! Pot calling the kettle black, I know. But seriously, for her to think that he actually…that there was even the slightest chance that he…She really didn't know him at all, did she?_

After all, Meredith had only dated him for nearly three years, talked to him almost every day, and had been on the verge of marrying him when Ginny reentered his life.

Merlin's beard, she and Harry had practically been strangers! As long as the definition of "strangers" had been dramatically altered since Ginny last opened up a dictionary.

"Yup. Total strangers. The woman didn't know what on Earth she was talking about when it came to how Harry feels about you. Just keep saying that enough and it'll be true," Ginny whispered out loud, her hand on the doorknob. Taking a moment to compose her features in case Harry was in the house, she slowly pushed the door open. Silence greeted her. The dull quiet had grown quite hospitable lately. It was a little surprising today, though. This was their last Quidditch practice before their team's first match and she would have thought he would have made it home by now.

There was a small pile of mail on the front table. One letter was open and Ginny glanced at it to find it was from Andromeda Tonks. There was no emergency, but poor Teddy had come down with dragon pox and as such would be unable to come to Hastom this month to visit with Harry.

_Poor boy_, she thought, putting the letter back down. _And poor Harry. He'll be disappointed. _

Not to mention herself. She'd been looking forward to seeing Teddy. Harry had visited with him outside of Hastom in July and last month here had been Meredith's untimely visit. Pulling herself up the stairs, she went to her room to change into something more comfortable for practice, hoping (and not hoping) that Harry would be downstairs when she was ready.

Maybe he doesn't know what to say around her anymore. He had to know on some level that Meredith left because she felt threatened by Ginny and now he was angry because he would still have a girlfriend—probably a fiancé by now—if the Council hadn't forced their current living arrangement on him in the name of Hastom's precious rules and traditions. Or maybe he was just going through a period of mourning. Maybe he just has the worst case of laryngitis in recorded history.

Or maybe he was just waiting for Ginny to say something first.

That gave her pause. What could she say that could end this silence between them?

_Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I cost you a chance to have a happy life with the woman you love. I'm sorry that you have to look at me every day and see what you lost. But most of all, I'm sorry that there was nothing I could say that night to Meredith to dissuade her of the notion that you feel anything for me other than friendship. If she hadn't felt so misguidedly threatened by me, she'd still be with you._

Catching sight of herself in the bedroom mirror as she pulled a long shirt over her head, she sighed a little at the image. Her stomach seemed to grow larger with each passing day; no longer an adorable, barely-noticeable bump,it was now quite obvious what was growing beneath her taut skin. Thin white lines spread from her belly button (now turned out as opposed to the small innie that it had been) all the way to her hips. Her breasts, once a novelty of pregnancy that she reveled in, were quickly becoming something of a nuisance. They kept growing along with her belly and she was over a full cup size larger than she had been before she was pregnant. Her skin was dryer now and even her hair, something she had never had to put much effort into making lovely, needed more work in the morning to make sure it didn't look stringy and lifeless.

"Oh yes," Ginny drawled to her reflection, caressing her belly, "every man's dream woman. Lock up your boyfriends and husbands, ladies. They wouldn't be able to resist all of this." Chuckling, she finished dressing and made her way downstairs. She stopped at the front door, listening for Harry, either in the house or outside, but she neither saw nor heard anything.

_He's at the pitch already, setting up and talking with the kids that came early. That's where he is,_ she thought to herself as she crossed the bridge.

But Harry wasn't there yet. Three of the older children where there, tossing a Quaffle back and forth between them, but there was no sign of Harry anywhere. Ginny walked ahead, trying to keep her worry nestled inside her heart and off her features.

"Hey guys," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could.

They turned and smiled at her. Lewis McKinney gave her a devilish smile before launching the Quaffle right at her with all his might. She easily caught it with both hands as it veered to her left side.

"You're still bending your elbow too much before you release," Ginny told him, tossing the ball back. "Straighten it out and you'll have much better control. Don't want you taking out any innocent bystanders during the game."

"Got it. Where's Coach Potter?"

"Oh, uh, I'm sure he's on his way here right now," she said with a huge smile. "Probably just putting the finishing touches on a few trick plays for the game."

Forty-five minutes later, the rest of the team had arrived, milling around the field, talking and laughing with each other at first before they realized how late it was getting and they were short one coach; more importantly, they were short the coach who could go up in the air and fly with them, a safety requirement for playing Quidditch with children under the age of eleven.

_Damn it, Harry, this is taking it too far. For your sake, you better be in a hospital bed, perfectly safe but terribly unconscious. _

Glancing one last time at her watch, she whistled loudly and gathered all the kids together. With the whole group of them staring at her with wide eyes and crestfallen looks, her heart sank somewhere around her knees.

"Okay," she began slowly. "So I'm sorry to say, but it looks like we won't have Coach Potter with us today. I'm…I'm sure he's just held up with something very, very important at work and that he wishes he could be here with you guys right now. Without him, it won't be possible to get you guys up in the air today."

Ramona Restin's hand immediately shot into the air. "Coach Weasley, I can run the air drills. I've seen Coach Potter do it a hundred times and it's really easy. Trevor can take my spot as Beater for practice."

"That's wonderful of you to offer, Ramona, but it's no use. The Council is very clear on the matter of having an adult present in the air with you at all times when you kids are playing Quidditch. Not to mention I don't think your parents would be pleased with it either."

The lanky blonde ran a frustrated hand through her spikey blonde hair while her teammates around her grumbled their agreement. "That's rubbish! We could play all by ourselves if we were at Hogwarts, this isn't fair!"

Ginny nodded in sympathy. She went up to Ramona and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders until the thirteen-year-old met her eyes. "You're right," she said honestly. "You all came here ready to play and through no fault of your own, you can't. I wish I could get up there with you, but that's not possible. What I can do is help you with your conditioning here on the ground. We can stretch and do some jogging. Chasers can work on passing and Calvin, Trevor, and Anna, you can toss Quaffles at Paddy to help him practice blocking. Ramona, you can lead the team in the exercises and we can all go over our playbooks together." She released Ramona and turned to all of the kids, her team. "You can never overlook the little things in preparation. Maybe your counterpoint on the opposing team has more flying ability than you, but if they lack basic conditioning and an understanding of their own plays, you have the advantage over them every single time. Quidditch isn't won by the Seeker alone or a great team of Chasers scoring left and right; it's the group of you working together, pushing each other to be better. If you do that, there's no team in this whole village that can beat you. Do you all believe that?"

"Yes," they said.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure you believe that?"

"YES!"

"Are we going to work hard today to get ready for tomorrow?"

"YES!"

"Are we going to give it our all out here tomorrow?"

"YES!"

"Who's the best Quidditch team in all of Hastom?"

"THE SNOW OWLS!"

"Who is it?"

"THE SNOW OWLS!"

"I can't hear you!"

"THE SNOW OWLS!"

All of the kids started jumping up and down excitedly before they converged on Ginny for a massive group hug. She laughed and even cried a little as the mass of bodies wrapped around her and one another. Wiping her eyes quickly as they broke apart, she clapped her hands loudly to get their attention again.

"Okay, Ramona, you are the assistant coach today. I want you to lead the team in a warm up jog and then we'll meet in the middle of the field to do our exercises." The teenager beamed and nodded, rounding up the group and beginning an easy pace around the pitch. Ginny stayed in the middle of the field, the smile slowly slipping from her face as her disappointment in Harry came to her mind.

_Safe, but unconscious, Potter. If you're anything else…_

Two hours later, she pushed herself through the door of the mostly-empty Falcon, too tired to try to cobble together a meal without magic. Hefting her weight onto one of the bar stools, she folded her arms on the tabletop and laid her head on them. The crinkle of paper next her and the aroma of freshly fried cod was the only thing strong enough to break through her weariness.

She lifted her head to see Bart, wrapped in an apron, smiling down at her and pouring her a glass of cold milk. "You look like you need this."

"Oh, you have no idea." Her mouth practically watering, she pulled the basket to her and inhaled deeply. "My word, that is better than sex." She furrowed her brow in thought. "At least I think so. Can't really remember at this point."

"Ouch. Thankfully, I cannot relate to that trouble..." Bart smirked and placed a tall glass of apple juice in front of her, grinning the grin of a man well-satisfied. It was almost enough to curb Ginny's appetite.

Almost.

"That's pathetic," she said around a full bite of fish. "Women outnumber in terms of the population, we're responsible for reproducing the human species, we have a higher life expectancy than men, and all we have to do to turn you lot into salivating, monosyllabic grubs is flash our girly parts at you. And yet its men, according to my friend Hermione, that have a near global control over the Muggle resources and governments of the entire planet. Men, who equate having sex with life fulfillment." She shook her head in dismay. "Pathetic."

"What can I say?" Bart shrugged, leaning against the back wall. "I am a very fulfilled individual. In fact, I was very fulfilled just a few hours ago when I went to see my wife for lunch…"

"Please don't," Ginny begged, shutting her eyes, utterly disgusted.

"Not to mention all the fulfillment I receive on a daily basis at home…"

"I'm trying to enjoy a meal, here. I'm a paying customer!"

"You're right. Forgive me," Bart apologized, holding his hands up. "For your sake, I will refrain from speaking aloud the number of times this week I have been fulfilled." However, he deliberately lowered one of his thumbs so he was holding up nine digits.

Ginny glared at him. "I hope your willy falls off."

Bart's smile grew even wider, if that was possible. "It might, given how much I've been using it lately." Laughing to himself, he reached under the bar to place a small dipping cup by Ginny; using his wand, he filled it with a bright red liquid.

"What's that?"

"Cherry juice. Harry mentioned you liked it with fish. Or was he just having fun with me?"

Ginny's lip curled bitterly; not at the sight of the sweet juice (which frankly, looked and smelled delicious) but at the sound of Harry's name. "Don't suppose you know where he is now, do you?"

"Uh, no. Wasn't he with you at practice?"

"No, he wasn't. The kids couldn't fly today because he wasn't there and the first match is tomorrow. When I find him again, unless he has an astronomically good explanation, I will throw something heavy right straight between his eyes."

"Again, ouch," Bart winced. He took a cloth and began wiping the counter around Ginny's meal. "What did you end up doing with the team?"

"I had them run passing drills and jog and dodge Quaffles. It just wasn't the same; it wasn't enough. They all tried their best, but they should have been flying. I mean I gave them the good speech about conditioning and preparing mentally, which is all true, but they're going to be going be flying tomorrow against a bunch of players in their mid-twenties. Some of my kids don't even have all of their adult teeth yet. I just don't think that it's going to be enough."

"Well, then having Harry there today probably wouldn't have made much difference," Bart concluded as he moved down the bar away from her.

Ginny said nothing in reply, only turned back to her food. Breaking off a piece of fish, she dunked it liberally in the cherry juice and stared at it thoughtfully as she held it over the cup, watching the liquid drip down from the flakey cod. She was surprised that Harry remembered on of her random cravings, let alone went out of his way to mention them to Bart. She wondered what other quirks of hers he talked about when she wasn't there; what other things about her he noticed lately?

_He lives with me, sees (well, __**did**__ see me) every day. He's bound to notice some things about me and talk about those things with his friends. It doesn't mean anything._

No matter how much she wanted it to.

In her heart, she knew that Meredith's thoughts regarding her and Harry were nothing more than illusions. Ginny had wronged him in such a way that it was inconceivable to her that he could ever feel anything for her again. That he could even offer her friendship—close friendship at that—confounded her to the core.

Love? Romantic love? The cards would never deal her that hand. She had played it once and folded it before the pot grew too large.

So why couldn't she control where her thoughts had been trying to lead her lately?

Ever since Meredith's departure, Ginny recalled nearly every moment she had shared with Harry in the past few months : the night in New York when he had gone out of his way to offer her shelter, even after she revealed the news about the baby…his willingness to help her stay in Hastom, despite the inconvenience it would cause him…the stories of her honor and bravery that he had told the village the night they had convened to hear her petition…the meals he cooked her in their kitchen…his laugh whenever she went into a cleaning spell…the soft smile he wore sometimes when she'd catch him watching her stroke her belly…

It was friendship, just Harry happy to have her in his life again. That's all it was, Meredith's imagination had just morphed it into something it wasn't.

Right?

Ninety-nine percent of her brain was rooted firmly in reality. The blasted one percent just had a very loud voice these days.

She was so lost in thought, staring down at her empty basket that she didn't hear Bart approach her again until he was in front of her.

"Uh, Ginny?"

"Yes?" She picked up her head and found him going quickly back and forth from her face to something behind her.

"Before you turn around, I want you to remember one thing," Bart began nervously. "This is a place of business, my business, and this place of business employs you and provides you with financial stability."

"Okay…"

"So just keep all that in mind before you start throwing things," Bart said, backing away slowly from her, keeping his eyes behind her. She thought she could see him trying to blink in Morse code at whatever he was staring at and she instantly knew what—or rather whom—she'd find when she turned around.

The green eyes that met hers were guarded but not bruised. There were no cuts or scraps or casts on his body that she could see and he didn't appear in pain as he stood there studying her.

Her fury over his absence, forgotten in her latest ruminations, reignited upon seeing him healthy.

_I told you, Potter, if you were anything else but unconscious…_

"Where have you been? Did you remember there was practice today?" Ginny asked immediately. Climbing off the stool, she went to stand in front of him, all hints of awkwardness and guilt gone. Her only thoughts were the faces of those kids today when Harry hadn't been there. He was their coach and he had a responsibility to be there for them.

She had no patience for men who shirked their responsibilities, especially when they involved children.

Harry looked at her as if he hadn't seen in her in…in weeks. Which, of course, he hadn't.

"Something came up at work," he explained quietly, avoiding her eyes and keeping a few steps of distance between them. "I didn't have a chance to send out a letter or a Patronus. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" His words made her see red. "What good does that do now, to me or to those kids? What was more important at work than being there for your team?"

His eyes narrowed sharply and his mouth tightened to a thin line. "My job is important because unlike here, where you're bad day is spilling a drink on someone, mine might consist of having to interrogate a wizard who sells poisons to innocent Muggles or witches who force young girls into slavery." He moved around her to go take a seat at the bar, turning his back on her.

That would not do, not today.

"Is that what your day consisted of?" she asked him as she went to stand next to him. "Truly awful things like that? Or was it a mountain of paperwork that you could have put off until Monday? Because I have a feeling that if I were to check the inbox in your office…"

"I said I was sorry, Ginny." Harry rubbed over his face. "I had a meeting with Robards and it ran long. I couldn't get away. What more do you want from me?"

"I want to know what's going on. You are not the kind of person who lets kids down the way you did today."

He shifted until he was facing her, no longer avoiding her gaze but meeting it head on with his own. It was magnetic and Ginny was helpless to look away.

"You," he said slowly, "have absolutely no right to say who or what I am anymore. You've done nothing this past month but go out of your way to avoid speaking to me or seeing me."

"Excuse me? When have I seen you this past month hanging around here waiting for me to get off my shift? How many conversations have you started after practice? How dare you try to-!"

"Guys!" Bart's hand was suddenly between them. He coughed loudly and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you, uh, want to take this back to your house? Not so much in public perhaps?"

Ginny's nostril flared. Logic and manners were becoming a stretch for her at this point. "Actually I don't think I can wait that long. We'll use your office, okay Bart?" She smiled venomously at Harry and asked him sweetly, "Does that work for you?"

He was already off the stool and leading the way out back. "That sounds fine to me."

"We'll be awhile," she threw out to Bart.

The other man grimaced a little, twisting a rag between his hands. "That may not be the best-"

"What?" Ginny rounded on him. "What might not be best about that?"

Bart cowered back two steps and swallowed. "No-Nothing. Nothing at all. P-Please don't set anything on fire."

"I'll try," she said, stalking back to the office. Under her breath, she muttered, "Pathetic."

Harry was waiting for with the door open. As soon as she crossed the threshold, he slammed it shut, shaking a few of the frames on the dark green wall with the force of it. She was sure, in that instant, that the row they were about to have would shake up from more than just wall hangings.

"Do not," he began as he walked towards her, "ever question the importance of my work like that again!"

"Well don't ever make my work sound insignificant again! I work damn hard at my job and you know it!"

"You wait tables, wipe up spilled liquor, and flirt with the old men at the bar. You're not saving the world here."

"Of course I'm not, that's your job! Who better to do it than Harry Potter?"

Harry turned away with a disgusted look on his face. "That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Bloody hell, I don't know what half of what you say even means anymore! Explain it to me like I'm Frankie First Year!"

"There are other jobs where you can contribute more, that's all I was saying."

"Where are they, Harry? Where? Making chocolate at the sweet shop? Cleaning rooms for Mrs. Nettles? Darning socks and taking in loads of wash for five Sickles a basket? This is the only place in Hastom I can find work!"

"Well, who the hell told you that you had to move here in the first place?"

"You did!" Ginny shrieked, jabbing him in the shoulder with her forefinger. The urge to burst into tears was fast becoming unavoidable. "You said that you were fine with me staying here! That whatever happened, we could work through it as friends and start all over! Damn it, you told the whole bloody village that you were happy to have me here!"

"I didn't know then!" Harry cried out, edging away and kicking at the bottom of the bookshelf in frustration.

"Know what?"

"What you being here was going to do to me!" All the anger physically faded as soon as he spoke and he slumped forward, resting his hands on his knees. He said his next words to the floor. "I had no earthly idea what it would do to me."

Watching him open up like that, be that vulnerable with her when she knew how much his insides must be rebelling against it, stopped her in her tracks.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him after a moment. He picked his head up and stared at her quizzically. "I'm sorry that you lost Meredith because I'm here."

"What makes you think you were why she and I broke up?"

"She told me." Harry straightened and stared at her, blinking. "The night…The night she ended things with you, she came to see me. To tell me why she was leaving."

Slowly, Harry circled around her, his eyes raking over her as he silently sorted through his thoughts. Ginny turned with him, pulling her arms across her chest and not pulling her own eyes away from him as they danced together.

"Wha-What did she tell you?" Harry asked quietly. "What reason did she give you for leaving?"

_That I love you and you love me and she didn't want to be around us anymore while we were so in love with each other. _

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said out loud, shaking her head. "Just a pile of rubbish not even fit for the bin." Harry stopped moving. He squinted his eyes slightly, like he was trying hard to see something in her eyes. He must have found what he was searching for because he looked away an instant later. Ginny gripped her elbows tightly. "Why did Meredith tell you she ended it?"

She hoped with all her heart it wasn't along the lines of anything she herself had been told. Ginny didn't think she'd have much success denying to Harry's face that she was in love with him. Merlin knows what would become of their friendship if that little detail became known.

Harry simply smiled humorously. "It doesn't matter."

It might kill her a little to have to listen to how heartbroken he was over losing the woman he loved, but it clearly wasn't doing him any good keeping it inside like this. Undaunted, Ginny pressed on. "Tell me, please."

"Why?"

"Because I want to help you with this. If you tell me, I might be able to help you."

Harry nodded and slinked over to the desk, sitting on the corner of it. He picked up a small white ball with red stitching all around and tossed it up in the air, catching it before repeating the motion.

"Who's the father of your baby?" he finally asked.

Iris started moving then, more sharply than Ginny could ever remember feeling. Her mouth went dry as she tried to picture how the conversation had ended up here. "Um, I, uh, I told you I wasn't discussing that with you," she managed to say.

"But I want you to tell me."

"I've already said that I would never tell you that!" Her anger flickered, his words and the casual way he spoke them acting kindling to the flame. "Why would you bring this up again? You said you wouldn't when I made it clear I didn't want this brought up again!"

"Because I want to help you with this," he parroted back, never taking his eyes off the ball. "If you tell me, I might be able to help you."

"Harry-"

"I mean, if you're allowed to want to know my personal thoughts and feelings on subjects I have no intention of talking to you about, then I think that the knife should cut both ways. Just my opinion, though. One friend to another."

Fuming, she stepped in front of him and snatched the ball out of midair, slamming it back onto the desk.

"Fine," Ginny said through clenched teeth, "if you want to be a complete tosser because you're pissed at the world right now, that's fine. Be mean to me. Ignore me. Make me feel like the worst person that has ever existed." The tears stung her eyes but she was determined to get this out. "If that's what you need to do to get over losing the woman you love, that's fine. I'm a big girl and I can take it." His eyes dropped and he opened his mouth to speak. She didn't let him. "What I cannot take, what I will not take, is you thinking that just because your life has taken a bad turn that you can let down a group of kids that idolize you! And not because you're Harry Potter, but because you're Coach Potter! So you will be there for that first match tomorrow and if you're not I…I…I will tell my mother on you!" Turning away, she left the office, slamming the door just as hard as Harry had behind her.

Nell was sitting at the bar, leaning in close to talk to her husband. They both looked her way as she stomped past them.

"Ginny, is everything…?" Nell started to ask.

"Do me a favor; don't be nice to Harry when he comes out of the office!" Ginny ordered her friend. At the door, she whirled around again, pointing accusingly at Nell. "And stop fulfilling your husband so much! You're going to hurt something and your husband is starting to get very annoying! Stand strong and make him work for it once in a while, don't just give it away like it's a Christmas gift two sizes too big!" She wrenched the door open and huffed out into the evening.

The next day began as any other had lately, with no sign of Harry anywhere. Ginny went through the rituals and motions of her shift at the pub, there physically but unable to recall anything she had done in the entire seven hours, only that she had spent the day in equal parts worry over how her team would perform and disappointed in Harry.

It didn't feel good to feel that way about Harry.

She played their fight back in her mind and while she could wish all she wanted that it hadn't come to that, it had and she didn't regret anything that she had said to him last night. It'd be easier if she could any fault in her actions or words; the truth was she knew that no matter the effect losing Meredith was having on him, Harry owed it to himself and the people around him to get his life back together.

Bart finally dismissed her for the day, with a quick kiss on the cheek after she had changed out of her waitressing uniform for the game.

"What's that for?"

"Wishing the assistant coach good luck on her first game, despite her callous wishes that I get less fulfillment at home," he replied before presenting her with a pin that morphed from a picture of a white owl to a smiling group shot of her young team. "I know we're not as flashy as the Harpies here, but we're glad to have you."

"Thanks."

"Just coach those kids straight to first place because," he made sure no one was eavesdropping, "I really don't want to give away more free drinks if one of the adult teams win again."

With the utmost pride, she pinned her gift onto her shirt. "Go Snow Owls," she said with a small smile.

"Go Snow Owls!"

Making her way down to the pitch among the groups of spectators going down to enjoy the game, she mentally prepared herself for the task ahead. The most important thing was to keep the kids motivated and engaged. Hopefully it wouldn't get too out of hand before the Snitch was caught; Ginny didn't think that the older team would make the kids suffer through a four or five hour-long match, not here in Hastom. She knew her kids would put in a good effort, would give it everything they had in them, but a win seemed to be hoping for too much.

_Especially when their own coach doesn't even-_

"Oi!" She blinked against the voice calling to her amid the hum of the crowd in disbelief, picking up her pace until she was greeted by the sight of Harry standing with the kids near the stairs that would lead them to their team perch, clipboard in hand and shiny whistle around his neck. When she was close to standing in front of him, she could see the shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked good, very good, especially when compared to last night. "We've been waiting for you."

Mindful of the impressionable faces and ears around them, Ginny followed Harry's lead and kept it simple. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You guys," she took in all of the kids lined up together, their robes spotless white and looks of fierce determination and giddiness on all of their faces, "look like you're ready to play."

"I hate to disagree with you there, Coach Weasley," Harry said, "but to me, they look a team that's ready to win. What do you lot say? You ready to win?"

"YEAH!"

"Okay then, first string on the center of the field with me to meet the competition. Reserves go with Coach Weasley up to the perch."

Ginny wished the seven players starting the game good luck, passing on last minute bits of information and advice along the way, her adrenaline kicking in as the opening whistle was only a few minutes away. She was going to the stairs when a hand clamped around her wrist and tugged her around.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized in her ear, "for the past few weeks. It wasn't anything you did, it was all on me. And I was out of line with you last night."

"Yes you were," she agreed simply, "but I pushed you to it. I can admit that much, at least. As for the last few weeks, we all know that two people are needed to have a conversation. Let's just say we both could have handled things better and go forwarded from there."

"That sounds good to me." He smiled brightly at her and the world seemed a better place. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go get this match started."

"I hope our little Owls can hold their own."

"I think they are going to dramatically exceed your expectations." He gave her a wink and joined the kids at the center of the pitch; Ginny was already about five steps up the stairs when she realized that Harry hadn't let go of her wrist once during their apology. Touching it gently with her other hand, she smiled to herself.

The match itself was an absolute slaughtering, just as Ginny had feared it would be; however, it was her Snow Owls that were doing the slaughtering. The Keeper, Paddy, looked as on point as any professional in the English League that she could remember playing against; she was almost tempted to ask Harry if he had slipped some "Felix Felicis" into the boy's pumpkin juice that morning. All three Chasers flew as an indestructible unit and the Beaters kept anyone not wearing white off target the whole game. And Calvin, little Calvin! His perfect Wronski Feint nearly brought tears to her eyes, it was so beautiful. The moment that bugger emerged to the crowd with the gold ball trapped in his hand, Ginny could honestly say she took more pride in that sight than in winning the League Cup her first year with the Harpies.

It was a magical day.

The victory party at Harry's house was a boisterous affair, filled with games of Exploding Snap on the living room floor to a marathon game of Hide and Seek. Bart provided enough Butterbeer and pumpkin juice to last a week and Madame Lemount brought over half a dozen pies and cakes. The children were beside themselves, bouncing back and forth between Harry and Ginny throughout the evening.

She finally managed to slip away for a quiet moment on the dock, with the moon and stars high above her, swinging her feet in and out of the cool water as she held her belly.

"That was quite a match, wasn't it sweetheart?" Ginny said to Iris. "I mean, there was no logical way that they should have won that match. None at all. They were the only ones who didn't know that and I think that's what did the trick in the end. They didn't know they were supposed to lose so they played liked they wouldn't.

"I hope you like to play Quidditch when you come out of me and get big enough to play. Of course I'll still adore you if you don't, it'll just limit our bonding activities a bit. I will have to insist though that you play Chaser. No bobbing between hoops or hitting things with bats, just lots and lots of goal scoring." Iris fluttered in reply and Ginny giggled. "However, if your heart is really set on it, I suppose I could live with you playing Seeker. But only after you give the position of Chaser its fair consideration."

She jumped a little when she felt something drape over her shoulders. Harry slid down to sit next to her and her heart relaxed as she wrapped the blanket more snuggly around her.

"Do you mind a little company? I, uh, can't look at the kitchen anymore without thinking about how long it's going to take to clean. Which I will, by the way. Don't go near it."

"For once, I'll happily leave it to you." They were quiet for a few moments, listening to the muted chaos going on behind them. "That was nice of you, to turn the house over to the barbarian hordes for the night."

"They earned it in my book. I've never seen them fly so confidently. According to Ramona, a lot of that was due to you." He nudged her side with his elbow. "Apparently, you gave them the mother of all pep talks yesterday in my absence."

"You trained them for months before I came into their world," she countered, giving him her own nudge. "Whatever I managed to unearth from them yesterday was what you've been steadily putting in for a long time. You're a great coach, Harry."

"So are you," he told her, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. "Maybe it's something you want to look into when you're trial is over."

"What? Coaching Quidditch? Professionally?" Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "Don't be silly."

"What's silly about it?" Harry argued. "You'd be fantastic at it. You know the game better than anyone I've ever met. I think any team would be lucky to have you on their staff. Have you really never given it any thought?"

"Sure, when I found out I was pregnant and I knew I couldn't play anymore. It only took me about five minutes to realize that it'll never happen. Quidditch teams are notorious for keeping their staffs in house. It's rare that they hire from the outside. Gwenog might be willing to take me on, but that would mean starting at the lowest pay grade possible with no assurance that I'll ever get the top job. Not to mention all the travel involved and the long hours…that's not the kind of mother I want to be. I want to be with this little one," she patted her stomach affectionately, "as much as I can. There are always going to be jobs out there but I'll only have a few precious years of my daughter's childhood. No amount of money is worth missing that."

"No, you're right," Harry told her softly. "That's a good way to think of it."

"A little extra money would be nice, though," she said with a shrug. "It'd be nice to afford a place with a yard and a tree, somewhere with a little more space. Room for the baby to grow."

"Yeah?" Harry took another long sip of his drink. "You know," he finally said, smiling slowly, "there may be a rather easy solution to your dilemma." Before she could speak, he turned to her, tucking a leg underneath him. "Do you have a Knut on you?"

"I think so," she said, searching through her pockets until she pulled out the small coin. Harry took it from her hand and flicked it in the air with his thumb. "Why?"

Still playing with the coin, Harry jerked his head past Ginny's until she turned and he pointed out at a huge oak tree about four hundred yards away from them. "Down there, if you look closely, there's another dock. It's hard to see at night, but trust me, it's there. The dock is part of a separate plot of land from the one we're on now. It's unused, waiting for someone to build on it."

Rolling her eyes, she looked back at Harry, wanting to wipe his little smile off his face. "I can't afford something like that, Harry, not even if I got tipped twenty Galleons a day for the next ten years. Private land, on a lake? That's not something in my budget to buy."

"Really?" His eyes widened in mock surprise. "That's strange. Because you just did." He flicked the coin up in the air again, catching it seamlessly in the palm of his hand.

_He didn't!_ Ginny thought as she realized what had just happened. Her mouth fell open in shock. _He absolutely did not just do that!_

"You…You…I…That can't…" Overwhelmed, she punched him square in the shoulder.

"OW!" he cried, reeling back while his smile morphed into full on laughter. "That's not how one traditionally celebrates buying their own land."

"I didn't buy it! You tricked me!"

"Only because I knew you wouldn't accept it any other way," he argued. He looked simply delighted at the war she was waging with herself; half of her was flabbergasted beyond belief and the other part was steaming over the fact that he had managed to pull one over on her. "And it wasn't a trick; it was me, a land owner, selling off some of my property to you, a buyer, for a sum that I thought was more than fair."

"The Council…the village will never go for this! I'm new, I'm supposed to start off small and grow from there!"

Sitting at her side again, he took her rigid hand and squeezed it gently. "Relax, Ginny. The land was mine free and clear. As long as it stayed with a citizen of Hastom, I was well within my rights to do with it what I pleased and what would please me most is for you and…and the baby to have a nice home." His hand gripped hers again and she looked over in a daze to see him smiling happily at her. "It would please me more than I could ever say."

"It's…too much," Ginny whispered, her Weasley pride trying to squash the warm feeling of peace spreading out from her heart. "It's far too much. I cannot accept something this big."

Harry nodded carefully. "Then don't accept it on your behalf. Accept it on hers." With the softest touch, he laid his free hand on her stomach. The feelings inside her at the sight of it, of him willingly reaching out to her daughter, threatened to rip her open from the inside out. "Give her a good home where she has lots of room to run and play and make a mess in. I think…I think that would be a good thing for a child to have." He smiled down at her stomach and Ginny pressed her eyes shut tightly against the bittersweet pain in her chest.

Why did he have to be so wonderful with the things like this? Why did he have to be so easy to love?

Pushing down her sadness at such thoughts, she did her best to ease the tension on her face as she opened her eyes.

"It would be nice," Ginny said, proud that her voice was only shaking a little, "to have something like that to lord over her when she's a teenager." Harry laughed throatily and his merriment allowed her to have some of her own. Before she could question where the urge came from, she laid her head down on his shoulder and wrapper her arms around him. "Thank you," she said into his chest, trembling a little as she heard the fast thumping of his heart against her ear.

"You're very welcome."

It would be the wise thing, the proper thing, to tell him now what a dear friend he was to hear. Try as she might, the words wouldn't move up from her throat to enter the world. Instead, she sat there with Harry for who knows how long, enjoying the peacefulness that was her life at the moment and yet unable to help herself from thinking how much happier she could have been if she was braver and if Harry was willing to give her his love.

Still, there were worse places in the world to be.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Notes: Okay, so this one got long. Real long. Really, really long. Way longer than I ever intended. Thanks as always go to an awesome team of betas, some of whom challenged me on this chapter to think long and hard about parts of it. Ultimately, I'm very happy with it and I hope you all love it, too. **

_There is no place in the world worse than this_, Ginny thought miserably as she maneuvered her cumbersome frame around on the exam table in Nell's office. Comfort was getting harder and harder to come by these days. Every part of her, from her eyelids to her swollen feet, seemed to ache to no end; her chest burned every time a morsel of food passed her lips; and it didn't matter how many Cooling Charms she made Harry set in the house every day or how crisp the October air was outside, she still ended up sweating through at least one shirt a day.

She understood perfectly well now why Molly would always say that pregnancy was a wonderful experience on the rare occasions Ginny had asked; if her mother had even so much as hinted at the truth about the "joys" of pregnancy, Ginny was quite certain she would have taken an Unbreakable Vow of celibacy a long time ago.

"Please don't misunderstand me. I love you," Ginny whispered to her Quaffle-sized stomach, patting it gently as she fought to keep her eyes open. "Mummy adores you to the highest heavens. Just be prepared for when you get older and misbehave to hear the phrase, 'Do you have any idea what I put my body through to give you your life, young lady?'"

A knock on the door grabbed her limited attention.

"Hello?" Nell asked. "Are you decent?"

"As decent as I can be without knickers on."

Nell smiled brightly at Ginny as she entered, her long blonde hair piled high on top of her head. "Good morning. How is my most favorite patient today?" She rolled her sleeves up and prepared her quill to make notes on Ginny's chart.

"Delightful. Give me the good news; I only have a few more days of this torture left, right? A week at the most?"

"Let's see." Nell quickly perused Ginny's chart and gave a curt nod. "Actually, you have about two and half months to go." Moaning, Ginny's head fell back against the table. "I take it someone is at the stage of pregnancy where they'd throw a Cruciatus at their grandmother in exchange for an hour with their old body back." Waving her wand over Ginny, Nell checked for any signs of physical distress or oddities in her patient, simultaneously recording Ginny's heart rate and blood pressure. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she took a seat at the foot of the table.

"Oh, let's see: My body is rebelling against nourishment, the minute I manage to find a comfortable position to sit in, I have to get up to go to the bathroom, and if my breasts get any bigger I'm going to look like I belong in a centerfold for _Warlock's Wenches_." Ginny groaned against the cramp settling in her lower back. "Are you sure you really want to do this to yourself?"

"Very much so," Nell replied, helping Ginny put her legs in the stirrups. "I'll give you a potion that should help with the indigestion and no matter what you're craving, lay off the food that's on the heartburn list I gave you. As for myself, I still need to get my husband on board with this whole parenthood game plan before I have to worry about my body waging war with me."

"Bart's still skittish about the whole thing? I really thought he turned a corner on your anniversary. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not in the pudding club already. Especially considering all of the 'fulfillment' you're—Ouch!" Ginny gritted her teeth as Nell's fingers carefully probed her insides. "If you want me to stop teasing about your sex life, all you need do is ask."

"Sorry," the healer apologized, ripping off her gloves and casting a Sanitizing spell on both her hands. "And you're right, Bart's been more open to the idea of children since we talked everything over, but he is still firmly in practice mode, as he calls it. He wants us to both be completely one-hundred percent on board before we start trying to conceive and he's only at about seventy-five percent right now."

"Have you tried telling him that's a passing grade in most subjects?"

Nell smiled wryly. "Ginevra, I can push my husband to admit that he took years of dance lessons and that he cries at the end of _The Princess Bride_. With one look from me, he'll pick his filthy socks up off the floor, give me a back massage, and spend an afternoon searching stores with me to find the perfect curtain for the shower. Having children, though…"She shrugged and sat down on the stool near Ginny's stomach. "I can't will that to happen. Not with his history. I've tried that already and it very well could have cost me my marriage. So for now, I will practice patience and tell myself every day that Bart will be ready soon enough. It's all I can do." Giving the orb that would record the scan a quick tap, she moved her wand over Ginny's exposed belly; immediately, the image of the baby—now almost a foot long and turning its head back and forth—emerged and brought a smile to both women's faces. "Until then, all of my maternal instincts will be foisted upon this little one."

"That reminds me," Ginny said quietly, never taking her eyes off her child, "I wanted to ask you and Bart something important."

"What?"

Against her wishes, she turned her eyes to her friend. There was nothing she would rather do than spend the day watching her child, but for something like this, eye contact was required. "I was hoping you two would consider being the baby's godparents."

Nell sucked in a deep breath, her blue eyes widening to saucers. "Ginny…I can't…that's…you really…?" The healer struggled to say, her gaze flickering back and forth between the smile on her friend's face and semitransparent picture of the baby floating over Ginny's stomach. "Why us?" she finally asked.

"Why not you?" Ginny asked in reply. A movement from the image caught her eye and she turned back to her daughter. "The pair of you have been nothing short of family since I've met you. Both of you helped make this place a home for me and then, well there's the obvious." Iris's image flexed one of her tiny hands and Ginny reached her own up to it, wishing she could feel the soft digits wrap around her thumb. "There might not even be a baby if it weren't for you. They say that when you pick godparents, you should pick the people that you think would best pass on the values that you want your child to have. Nothing in the world would make me happier than if my child grew up to have your compassion and your husband's kindness. Please say yes."

The corners of Nell's mouth twitched before they settled and she swallowed throatily. "I…I am honored that you would consider us," she began, "but before I agree to talk to Bart about this, I need to know one thing: Are you asking us because we're who you truly want or are you asking because you're not too happy with some of your brothers right now?"

"Nell, that doesn't have-"

"I've seen you since you started getting their letters back," Nell interrupted. "Don't try to deny that a few of them responded with, well, something less than enthusiasm." Ginny sighed, keeping her eyes on the baby. It calmed her, grounded her, to see how well her daughter was growing.

Calmness was what she needed when thinking of most of her brothers.

"The baby isn't their issue," Ginny said, smiling a little as she saw for herself Iris moving in addition to feeling the tiny nudges against her insides. "Don't get me wrong, they're not jumping for joy that I'm making them all uncles the way I am, but I knew deep down they'd accept my daughter. She's family, after all. Living in Hastom on the other hand…"

Nell nodded and grabbed Ginny's chart, making a few additional notes with her quill. "I take it they're not big fans. Let me guess: Ogres use our water supply to defecate in, we give each other puss-filled maggots for Christmas gifts, and there's only sunlight in the village twenty minutes a day every other month. Grew up with a few stories like that didn't you?"

"More than a few, I'm ashamed to admit. Your Council's plan of spreading wild rumors to keep people away is highly effective." Ginny studied her friend, taking in the small smile on Nell's lips as she finished her notes. "It doesn't bother you at all when you go outside the village? To know what most people think of this place?"

"A little bit, but people are always frightened of what they don't understand. It's our nature. To you, anything other than going to school at Hogwarts would seem crazy; to me, leaving home for nine months out of the year, seven years straight, sounds like madness. It's all about what you know to be true growing up."

"You really never wanted to go and study magic at Hogwarts?" It was so accepted in the magical world for children to be educated there that Ginny had a hard time imagining her own childhood without the anticipation of going off to live in the ancient castle someday.

"Nope," Nell simply said. "Never once. I loved learning to make potions in the kitchen with my mum and taking care of kneazles with my grandfather. Every child in the village learned Herbology in Mr. Chronin's greenhouse and we all had flying classes together in the pastures. When I was about fourteen, I started training with my father to be a healer full-time and I was able to get all my certifications by the time I was eighteen. If I had gone to Hogwarts, I wouldn't have even been allowed to start learning how to do what I loved until I turned seventeen. Honestly, I can't name a single person from here who's let their child go away to school." She tilted her chin back to the image of the baby. "Do you really think you'll be able to let this one go off to live away from you when they turn eleven?"

"I hope so," Ginny said, even as her chest tightened painfully at the mere idea of not being able to see her child for so long. "It wasn't always easy, but I had wonderful times at Hogwarts and I made so many good friends there. I think it'd be almost selfish of me to keep her away from all of that."

"We'll see what you say the minute I put that baby in your arms." Waving her wand over Ginny's stomach, the image of the baby started to slowly fade away. Ginny blew the picture a small kiss before it faded completely. "Now, back to my original question: There's not a part of you that wouldn't want one of your brothers to be a godparent?"

"No," she said softly. It wasn't pleasant to admit, but it was the truth of the matter. "They can't accept yet that Hastom is my home and until they can…Believe it or not, my brother Percy has been the one that's handled everything the best."

"He's the stuffy one, right?"

"Yes, the only Weasley who doesn't rejoice in watching someone take a bite of a well-placed piece of Flatulating Fudge: the one least like the rest of us. But he was the first one to write back to me. Bill took almost two weeks and he was furious; Charlie was a few days later and only wrote back a few sentences; even sweet George was a little horrified over what's happened in my life, but not Percy. He wrote back the next day, saying that he loved me very much and that while he doesn't understand any of what I've done, we're family first and he's there for whatever I need of him."

She didn't say out loud the other things Percy had included in his letter, about how his foolishness over something so trivial as his career had almost cost him his family one time in his life and he wasn't going to let something as inconsequential as a residence come between them. The addition information would require explaining so much Weasley family history to Nell that she hadn't had a part in and just the thought of it exhausted Ginny past the tiredness she was already feeling. As dear a friend as she was to Ginny, Nell was an outsider to much of Ginny's history with her family and whenever the topic of her family came up in conversation, it was necessary to trace and retrace a lot of the more complicated dynamics of the Weasley clan to the healer.

Harry had understood perfectly when she had showed him Percy's letter when it came, without her having to say a word.

It was nice having someone—a **friend**—who knew her so well.

"Well," Nell said, drawing Ginny back to their conversation, "Percy sounds like he'd make good godfather material."

"Yes, in some areas, but then again I'd rather not have my child growing up worrying about the thickness of cauldron bottoms and thinking Quidditch to be nothing more than a fruitless hobby. Believe me, you and Bart are who I want."

"Not even Ron?"

Ginny looked down at her toes, amazed at how much she needed to crane her neck to see them. She would have liked nothing better than to deny outright that her brother and Hermione had been her first choices for godparents. Ron had always been the brother she had been closest to and Hermione was such a good friend, so a part of her past. Her heart had been hoping against hope that Ron's response would be one full of joy and excitement for the new course her life was on; that he was already buying his future niece her first set of Cannon's robes and that Hermione had pre-ordered the infant a copy of _Hogwarts: A History; _that as the years passed, he realized Hastom could not possibly be a place of such discord and strife and he was eagerly awaiting his first invitation to the village. That had been her hope.

Her reality was silence. Weeks of dreadful silence from him.

To be fair, the first fortnight hadn't been Ron's fault. He and Hermione had been traveling because Hermione was a guest speaker at some of the international conferences being held around the world to benefit Muggle and Wizarding relations—the same ones the senior Weasleys were attending. According to Harry, Ron hadn't even received her letter until well after she had heard back from the rest of her brothers, when he had walked into the Auror office he shared with Harry and seen the envelope waiting for him at his desk.

"He…he didn't take it as well as he could of," Harry explained diplomatically when he came home that evening. That might have well been the understatement of the year. From the look on his face, Harry hadn't even wanted to bring the subject up, but he had seen how restless she had been the past week, waiting to hear something—anything—from Ron. "I think it was just the shock of everything all at once. He just needs some time to adjust. I don't think it's asking too much to give him that, do you?"

Frankly, she had, but Ginny could concede that maybe her thinking wasn't always the most rational lately, what with never feeling comfortable and bursting into tears at the strangest provocations, like yesterday, seeing that there were no lemons in the house. Her eyes had still been red when she walked into work an hour later. So, impatiently she waited, giving her brother all the precious time he needed, reminding herself daily that he would be upset and it would be best if she didn't try to rush him for a response.

Now it was the middle of October, a good three weeks after he received her letter and there was still nothing from him. Depending on the hour of the day, she was either angry, confused, furious, understanding, enraged, uncaring, or livid to the end of time over Ron's silence. Mostly, she was just sad; sad that her brother was missing out on such a huge event in her life and sad for the fact that Harry was caught in the middle between the two of them, even though Ron didn't realize it.

Harry had never told anyone in her family where he lived. Whenever they asked him over the years, he simply explained that he never wanted to put her family in the position of having to reveal the information if they were captured by a Dark wizard who wanted Harry's whereabouts. Ginny knew Hermione especially hated that Harry kept such a thing a secret, but even she could admit that such an idea wasn't merely a product of Harry's paranoia. Only Ginny knew, after spending months living with Harry, what his true fear was: Losing the only family he had.

"The first time I tried to tell Ron about living in Hastom, right after I started my trial," Harry told her one night as they shared their pudding in the living room, "I tried to be subtle about it. I knew from Luna that there were wizards and witches out there who were afraid of Hastom and while I didn't think that list included Ron, I still figured it was better to be casual about the whole thing. As soon as I said the word, 'Hastom', his whole face changed. I can't remember the last time I had seen him so…so angry and that was just over hearing the name." Harry shook his head miserably, putting aside his half-eaten treacle tart. "The lecture over the evils of Hastom lasted forever. I zoned out about halfway through, but I caught the gist of it: Ronald Weasley does not associate with anyone from Hastom."

Which, at the moment, included his only sister.

"You're my choice," Ginny told Nell. "You and Bart. The two of you are right for my little girl."

Nell smiled a little to herself before turning away. "Okay then. I'll talk to Bart about it tonight and we'll give you our answer soon. You're all set to get dressed."

"Oh, so I get to put my bra and knickers back on. Joy. Because they're so comfortable lately," Ginny groused, lifting herself off the bed and reaching for her clothes. "Look at it this way, maybe being a godfather will help ease Bart into the transition of fatherhood. Help him see that it's not so scary after all."

"I appreciate the thought, but remember I am not trying to rush him. Here," Nell said, handing her a small satchel with several vials of purple liquid tucked inside, "take these for the heartburn. If it doesn't work, there are some Muggle remedies we can try out." Ginny eyed the bag disdainfully as she pulled her white sweater over her head. Prenatal potions left a horrid taste in the back of her mouth that no amount of chewing gum or that strange green liquid Harry used after he brushed his teeth could relieve.

"Someday soon," Ginny said, bending awkwardly to pull her knickers up, wincing as they cut a little into the sensitive skin underneath her belly, "you'll be the one taking all these disgusting potions and cringing over stretch marks and I'll be smiling at you, humming a happy tune under my breath."

"Oh!" Nell gasped and made for the door. "I'll be right back, need to grab something in my office." When she returned, she handed Ginny a few pieces of paper. "Bart asked me to give you these, he's handing them out at work today and since it's your day off, I get to play messenger."

"What's it for? A Halloween party?" Ginny laid the bright orange papers on the table and looked them over as she tugged her jeans up. Try as she might, the stupid button would not close and she huffed in annoyance, yanking her sweater over jeans. More maternity shopping, just what she wanted to spend her hard-earned money on.

_The average baby weighs about seven pounds at birth, according to all the books. How does that translate into me already gaining almost two stones?_

"Word of advice: Don't let my husband hear you say that," Nell warned, picking up Ginny's bag off the floor and carrying it for her. "The 'Halloween Extravaganza' is the highlight of Bart's year, not to mention a pretty big deal for the entire village. The party concludes the week-long Fall Festival at the end of the month."

"Is there nothing in the world that Hastom does not celebrate?" Ginny asked. "Since I've been here we've had The Feast of Elders, a giant parade at the end of summer, the reenactment of Merlin's life to commemorate his birthday in the square, a town potluck to start off the Quidditch season, and that thing last week with the animals that I still don't understand-"

"I told you already: Milking Day is in honor of the first cow milked in Hastom, whereby we give thanks for the nourishment and flourishing the livestock have provided for the entire village."

"-not to mention the countless dances, musical performances, game nights, and children shows that occur every weekend. Don't you think that sometimes you overdo it just a trifle?"

"No, not at all," Nell disagreed. "We're alive, healthy, and we have freedom; if that's not worth celebrating at every chance, I don't know what is."

Ginny shook her head, but she couldn't find a good enough reason to disagree when it was put quite like that. "So what is this Fall Festival and why is your husband so enamored with it?"

"It's where we take time to recognize that we'll be without some of the benefits of nature for several months as winter approaches. No leaves for shade or color, some animals at rest, and less light in the day for our work. We throw a huge party—even by our standards—that lasts for a whole week and there's a carnival with rides and petting zoos and every kind of food you can imagine. The whole village practically shuts down for the festival and it's a time to be together before Halloween arrives. That's when we get everything ready for the kids to go trick or treating while after they go to bed most of the adults get to have our fun at this." She picked up one of the flyers and held it up, waggling her eyebrows. "This party is for mature eyes only; lots of drinking, loud music, and inappropriate costumes. Bart spends months planning it and putting it together at the Falcon."

"Sounds like fun."

"It is. However, as an employee of the Millennium Falcon, you will have certain, shall we say, obligations to attend to the night of the party."

Already it sounded less fun. "Like what? Ginny asked warily.

"For starters," Nell said, delighted to be giving Ginny the news, "the Falcon employees all wear costumes in the same theme."

"Which is…?"

The grin on Nell's face became positively feline. "Have you gotten a chance yet to watch that movie my husband mentioned to you a while ago, _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?"

"I have not, but I'm just taking a wild guess here; as soon as I do watch it, I'm going to want to murder your husband with my bare hands, aren't I?" Groaning, Ginny put her jacket on and let Nell lead her out of the exam room.

"Just go along with it," the healer advised, wrapping a supportive arm around her shoulder. "Have fun and don't worry about how crazy you're going to look. Think of it this way: It'll be the last Halloween for a very long time where you're not sewing together a bumblebee costume or trying to make dragon wings out of papier-mâché. Enjoy it."

"If you say so." They walked through the crowded waiting room together, half a dozen children with red noses and coughs greeting them along with their haggard mothers or fathers.

_That'll be me next year_. Ginny sucked in a deep breath at the thought as she pulled open the door to the chilly air.

Maybe an adults-only Halloween party wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"I'll see you for lunch tomorrow at the pub, okay?" Nell nodded and leaned in to give Ginny a quick peck on the cheek in goodbye, bristling against the cold. "Tell me then if I need to smack some sense into Bart about the whole godparent thing. I'm quite happy to do that."

"Will do." Ginny was a few steps out the door when Nell called to her again. "Wait a minute!" Hurrying over, her teeth chattering against the frigid air, Nell rubbed her hands up and down her arms for warmth. "There's something else I should have asked you about us being the godparents."

"For the last time Nell, I'm fine with not having my brothers involved. My mum might have a few kittens over it, but-"

"No, that wasn't it." Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she looked Ginny straight in the eye. "Isn't there a part of you that would rather ask Harry to be the godfather?"

"No," Ginny said immediately without thinking. Truthfully, she hadn't thought of Harry at all when she was pondering the question of godparents. Now that the idea had been presented to her, something about it felt wrong. "Besides he's…he's already a godfather. To Teddy."

Godfather wasn't Harry's place in Iris's life. There were many things in her world she was uncertain of, but not of that.

"Oh," Nell replied, tilting her head to the side. "Okay then. Just making sure." She pulled her hands close to her mouth and blew into them. "How are you two doing lately since the wall of silence came crashing down?"

"Good actually." Ginny looked down and smiled as memories of the past few weeks came back to her. It didn't matter if Ginny ranted on about the latest editorial in _Quidditch Quarterly_ that was written by someone who had clearly never even held a broom while Harry made dinner and tried not to laugh too much or if they were sitting quietly together on the sofa in the living room, he going over some of his files and she making yet another attempt at knitting something for the baby, the wireless playing softly in the background; just being in the same room again had done wonders for both of their dispositions. "Really, really good. I had almost forgotten how nice it was to have him there to talk to after a long day at work."

"I'm sure he'd say the same about you." Nell returned her smile. "I'm glad. It was extremely the opposite of fun watching you both be so miserable. You two bring out good things in each other." Her smile tempered slightly. "I like seeing it."

"We'll see how happy I am come Halloween and…oh no." Ginny closed her eyes, her gut clenching unpleasantly.

"What? Are you okay?"

Ginny nodded, holding up her hand to ward off Nell's worrying. "I'm fine, it's…I just remembered about Halloween. I mean, about Harry and Halloween."

"Right," Nell agreed, easing her way back to the door of her clinic, leaning against it. "Well, I can tell you he won't be here during the day at all. That's when he usually tries to go to-"

"Godric's Hollow, yes. When it's not as crowded as it is at night." Nell raised one eyebrow knowingly and Ginny made a face. "I remembered from before, when we were…you know. That's all. It's a hard thing to forget because he doesn't talk about his parents too often; I made sure to commit what I did get to memory. Will he at least come to the party so he doesn't spend the whole day by himself?"

"Maybe. He's come some years and not others. It all depends on his frame of mind, I guess. When he does come, he never dresses up. Just tucks in to a few glasses of ale and stays long enough that people could notice him and say that he'd been there. Bart tried one year to get him dancing or mingling at least and it fell pretty flat. It's, well, you know. It's not the best day in the world for him."

"Yeah," Ginny nodded slowly. All these years later and Voldermort still held some small control over Harry's life. When would it ever really end? Could it even? All she knew was that she would give a never-ending supply of Galleons for just the chance that it could happen someday.

"Alright, if I don't go back inside, I'll be the patient," Nell said, shivering mightily. Giving Ginny another kiss goodbye, she hurried back inside. "Remember, stay away from the food on the bad list. Healer's orders!" Ginny could only nod in reply as she made her way back down the street, hurrying along for the warmth of home.

There was a loud noise coming from the house; she heard it even before she reached the stone pathway. The sight that greeted her when she pulled the door open brought a huge, if somewhat stymied, smile to her face.

"ROAR!" Harry called out from the living room floor, kneeling on his hands and knees away from her as a little boy with dark green hair and wearing rolls of aluminum foil over his arms, legs, and shoes brandished a wooden spoon at Harry's forehead.

"STOOBIFY! " Teddy Lupin shouted at the top his lungs, poking Harry gently right between his eyes before racing merrily around the coffee table, screaming at the top of his lungs, the green of his hair slowly shifting to aqua amidst his laughter. Harry crumpled to the ground in defeat, moaning and flapping his arms like a bird as he landed on his back, the biggest smile plastered on his face. Teddy had already made two laps around the table when he noticed Ginny standing openmouthed in the doorway. "Harry, who's she? She's Ginny?"

Scrambling to his feet, Harry almost tripped over the edge of his rug in his haste to reach them. Scooping the boy into his arms, he smiled sheepishly at Ginny as she finally managed to shut the door.

"Yes, Cub. This is, uh, Ginny," Harry said. "You knew her when you were a baby." Teddy squirmed in his arms until the child was almost hanging upside down, grinning happily. "Ginny, this young man is Teddy Remus Lupin. He's a bit bigger than the last time you saw him."

"Yes, he is," Ginny breathed in amazement, craning her head to get a better look at the boy's face. She remembered her mother once mentioning that the baby was the spitting image of his namesake, Ted Tonks, but seeing him now, Ginny was sure she spotted a bit of Remus in the shape of his mouth and nose. "How-How do you do, Teddy?"

"I do good, thank you," he replied smartly. "Down, Harry!"

"See," Harry began, trailing his fingers along Teddy's stomach, eliciting peals of sweet laughter from his godson, "that sounded a little bit demanding and you know what I have to do to make you stop demanding things." Harry carried him back to couch, tickling away, as Teddy thrashed and gasped happily for breath. "Perhaps if someone knew the proper way to ask for things, they would be able to escape the Tickle Trap."

"Puh-Puh-leeze stop Harry!" Teddy coughed out. Harry relented and the boy took in a few hulking breaths to settle down before he scampered out of the loose hold and made a beeline for the kitchen, his hands going to the fastenings of his overalls as the foil crinkled underneath him. "I have to go wee!"

"Aim for the bowl this time, Cub!" Harry called back, laughing quietly. He smiled back up at Ginny. "Have I mentioned that we have a houseguest for the next few days?"

"Really? Why? I thought there weren't any more visitors until the end of the month?" She lowered herself into the armchair, sighing in relief while propping her feet up on the table.

"Andromeda had to go to Italy at the last minute. A friend of hers was in some kind of accident and she's there helping to take care of her." Reaching forward, Harry gently took her shoes off and propped a throw pillow underneath her feet. Ginny smiled at him gratefully, shrugging off her jacket. "Anyways, she Flooed me at work and asked me to take Teddy until she got back. Once I cleared it with the Council, seeing as it's a family emergency, and got the time off work, I brought him back here to play Dragon Wranglers." A look of guilt flashed through his eyes and he hissed softly. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you first before I agreed. This is your house too, after all. It's just Andromeda was in a real bind and it took a little longer with the Council than I thought. I assumed that-"

"I would be thrilled to be able to spend some time with Teddy?" Ginny nodded in agreement. "If that's the case, you were correct."

"Phew," he whistled, taking one of her feet and rubbing it gently. She moaned in relief, nestling further back into the cushions under his ministrations. "I'm glad. I know it's a bit sudden, but I also know how much you wanted to see him again and he's been asking about you a lot."

"He has? I didn't think he'd remember me."

"He remembers all of your mother's stories about all the trouble you'd cause when you were his age." Harry grinned, his fingers pressing lightly into her ankle.

She kicked him in the knee with her other foot. "Bite your tongue, I was perfect."

"Whatever helps you get through the day. Anyways, between Molly's stories, all the pictures of you at the Burrow, and all of the Quidditch bragging Ron secretly does about you…" he trailed off as he saw Ginny look away. "Anyways, um, Teddy's been looking forward to this almost as much as you have."

Picking at her cuticle, she couldn't help to ask, "What did Ron have to say about me today?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, focusing all his attention on her feet.

"I can handle it, you know. I'm a grown woman. Pick out my own clothes and everything."

"Yeah, well, maybe I just don't like repeating it after listening to it for most of the day," Harry said, releasing her foot and leaning back against the couch, his handsome features marred by his unhappiness over the whole situation. "Maybe I was wrong about this whole give him time approach. Maybe he does need you to reach through the Floo and slap him across the face. Merlin knows I want to most days. If I have to hear one more soliloquy about how the Aurors should just stage a raid on Hastom and eliminate it forever…" He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Ron won't push you away if you tell him you live here," Ginny tried to convince him. "You've been through too much together. If he knows that you find this place to be good, maybe it'll help him come around."

"He's the first friend I ever had, Ginny," Harry explained, keeping his eyes closed. "One of the first people I ever knew who didn't think I was a freak. That first year at school, if I hadn't had him there to remind me I was a kid named Harry as opposed to the wizard who destroyed Voldermort that got pointed at every time he walked to a new class, I think I might have lost it. He's more family to me than what little blood relations I have left. I just…I can't risk losing him or Hermione. She'd lose her mind over it, but I know if it really came down to it, she'd choose Ron. It's cowardly and not at all becoming of the great Harry Potter-"

"Stop it right there," Ginny said, pushing up off the chair and reaching to take his hand.

The increasing closeness of the past few weeks had made it almost easy to ignore the shock of warmth that traveled straight to her heart whenever they touched.

Almost.

"If you honestly believe that telling Ron about Hastom will cost you his friendship, then it's not crazy for you to want to hold that back. He's such a huge part of your life and I know how devastated you'd be if you lost him or Hermione."

Harry squeezed her hand back, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. "I just feel so small about the whole thing, especially compared to you." He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "You have the courage to face the wrath of your entire family over the Snitch there." Harry pointed to her stomach; Ginny smiled along with him as she thought back to the nickname he had bestowed upon the baby when she had tried to describe the fluttering movements she felt inside her. "And I don't even have the guts to tell my best mates my address. Bit of a blow to the ego, to be honest."

"Well, did you ever consider that the only reason I was brave enough to share such news was that I had your encouragement echoing in the back of my mind whenever I tried to talk myself out of it or tried to convince myself that lying would be easier on everyone?"

"You think that's why you were able to get it all out in the open? Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Ginny almost wanted to shake him by the shoulders at the oblivious look in his eyes.

Was he playing coy or did he truly not understand all she had been able to accomplish now that she had him back in her life?

"I know it is," she replied. "So from now on, you can count on me for a limitless supply of affirmations about how good it'll feel to finally have Ron and everyone else know about this part of you, starting right now. Ronald Weasley will always be your friend, no matter where you live, even if it's the place where he once believed with all of his heart that dessert did not exist."

Harry's hold on her hand eased ever so slightly, but his eyes stayed right on hers. "You do realize," he began in a low voice, "that if I tell him where I live now I'll eventually have to explain that you and I are living together, right?"

Ginny blinked once then twice. The way his voice had just sounded reminded her of a time long ago, laying warm and soft beneath the sheets as Harry curled his body around hers and whispered into her ear, sending delightful tickles of pleasure down to the base of her spine.

_That's not a tone one uses with a friend, is it?_ she thought, dumbfounded. _Certainly Bart or Neville has ever said something to me quite like…like that._

She was still trying to form a response to Harry's words when a voice suddenly called out from just outside the kitchen, breaking the spell.

"HARRY!"

"Yes, Cub?" Harry replied, turning away from Ginny and the sudden case of numbness that had overcome her mind.

"I MISSED! A LOT!"

The next morning, after an evening spent teaching Teddy to bake her mother's famous mint-chocolate chip biscuits, Ginny brushed out her long hair in the bathroom mirror, wiping off the condensation from her shower. Try as she might to keep her focus on the wet tangled locks she ran her brush through, her mind refused to budge from the place it had spent much of the last night.

Harry moved and spoke with such ease lately that some of what he said and did hadn't even registered with her at first; the effort he made now to work less in the evenings and on weekends in order to spend time with her showed Ginny the depths of what their friendship had become. He talked openly of happy (and not-so-happy) times from his younger years, made sure she knew the ins and outs of the various relationships and families here in Hastom, and even confided in her about the delicate nature of the work he sometimes did. Ginny, in turn, found herself speaking of childhood memories shaded both by joy and the pressing need for individuality in a large family, or all of the battles, on the pitch and off, she had fought to rise to the top in Quidditch. A letter shared from her father or from one of her brothers might prompt a conversation that could last until the early morning hours. They cooked together and cleaned together and together they prepared the land outside the house for winter with easy laughter and support enclosing them both.

In short, they lived together. The way millions of other couples the world over lived together every day.

Except they were most decidedly **not** a couple. They weren't in love with each other. Well, one of them wasn't at any rate, not the way the other was.

Right?

Every part of her mind—a mind she knew to not be operating to its full capabilities, thanks to the Snitch dancing inside of her at that very moment—was certain, that while it was obvious that Harry cared for her and her well-being, it was the caring of a friend and not of a lover. Because that's all they were and all he wanted them to be. Friends.

_Friends who take each other in during a hard time in life…Friends who stop using magic around the house when the other can't…Friends who take the other's tired, aching feet and massage them without even waiting for the favor to be asked…Friends who give away a piece of land worth ten thousand times as much as they "sold" it for just for a baby that isn't theirs to have a good life…_

Seeing that list in her head, she tried hard to imagine Neville's face in place of Harry's. It didn't fit. Neither did Seamus's or Dean's or Lee Jordan's; even Bart's was still slightly blurry around the edges. Try as she might to force another into the spot Harry had in her life right now, no other man slid as effortlessly into place quite the way Harry did. No other friend, at least.

Swallowing against the indecision on her face, Ginny used her shaking hand to put the brush down on the counter and shut her eyes tight. Maybe, just maybe, she could say the words to him, the words clawing against her chest for desperate escape from her heart, and he wouldn't laugh or run screaming or stalk past her without a word.

Maybe he'd smile while his green eyes shone with happiness.

Maybe he'd reach his hand up to caress her cheek.

Maybe he'd pull her against his chest and whisper…

A quick, sharp jab from the inside of her stomach pulled her with a gasp out of the fantasy that Ginny had let herself fall so easily into. Securing the large towel around her with one hand, she dropped her other hand to her belly pressing it against the spot where she had just felt what she was certain was a kick. It was the strongest movement she could ever recall feeling from the baby and it brought reality back along with it.

Loving Ginny meant loving Iris as well and for all his talk of wanting to know what the little Snitch moving felt like or wishing that she had a nice place to grow up, how on Earth would Harry ever be able to look at her child and not see in her daughter's eyes the living embodiment of all the hurt Ginny had inflicted upon him? For goodness sakes, the man had run away to a place most wizards deemed a land permeating darkness just to escape what she had done to him not all that long ago. And now she was…what exactly? Expecting him to excuse all her endless transgressions against his soul? Love her wholly and unconditionally? Take another man's child into his heart as his own?

Was there even a person alive foolish enough to believe that she deserved such a superhuman effort of forgiveness?

"No," Ginny whispered to her reflection. Her heart pressed into the back of her throat, fighting to keep the admission inside, but her mind knew and understood the truth. She might never stop wanting what could never be, but to try to actively catch it or even chase it was a reckless luxury she couldn't afford. Not when there was someone coming into her world very soon who would be relying on Ginny and Ginny alone to provide stability and peace for her. Patting her belly through the terrycloth, Ginny did her best to shake off her pain as she prepared for the day.

By the time she entered the kitchen to see Teddy burrowing into a bowl of cereal a half an hour later, the melancholy of her morning had mostly faded. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said to the little boy, taking a seat next to him and reaching for blueberry muffin from the pile in the center plate. She brushed against a pile of open work folders Harry had left on the table and she pushed them to the side.

Teddy waved shyly at her, dribbling milk down his front. Smiling softly, Ginny picked up a napkin and tried to mop him up as best she could around his wiggling protests.

"Where's Harry?" she asked him when he was as clean as he'd let make him.

"In the Foo," he said simply, stirring his cereal around his bowl, creating a mushy whirl of brightly colored bits of sugar.

"In the Floo, I see. Do you know who he's talking to?" Teddy shook his whole head back and forth. "Okay. Do you know what you and Harry are doing this morning while I'm at work?" An even bigger shake of his head; Ginny was surprised she hadn't heard a crack from his neck. "Third times a charm, then. Do you know what you want to have for dinner tonight?"

Teddy wiggled his mouth side to side in deep thought, scratching the side of his magenta-hued head. "Pizza," he finally said after giving it careful consideration.

"That sounds delicious."

"One with double extra cheese."

"Yum!" Ginny said, breaking off bits of muffin and popping them into her mouth.

"And one with ham and pickles and toffee and grape jelly to dip it into!" Teddy teased, his eyes alight with glee.

Ginny mustered up as much gusto as she could. "That…That…" She took a moment to consider it and she felt her eyebrows raise in surprise as her stomach grumbled, "That actually sounds very good." She shrugged and returned to her breakfast, glancing at the folders to her right while Teddy dove back into his cereal. The top paper read:

_International Association of Aurors_

In smaller script underneath the title:

_Strategies for Creating Global Task Force_

Her fingers itched to leaf through the papers, but thankfully, before the urge to nose around became unbearable, Harry came into the kitchen.

"Morning, Gin," he said, sliding into the chair across from her on Teddy's other side. "Did you sleep well?" he asked as he buttered a piece of toast.

"Oh, um, yes," she said quickly, scooping a spoonful of scrambled eggs onto her plate. No need to tell him how long she had stayed up, examining his words from last night for every possible meaning and subtext. That was behind her. For this hour, anyway. "Very well, thank you. Better than you two did, I imagine." She smiled at Teddy as he remained unaware of anything except the tiny marshmallows in his breakfast. "How many times did he wake you up to tell you he needed a glass of water?"

"The exact same number of times he woke me up to tell me he couldn't reach the light switch in the bathroom," Harry admitted, giving Teddy his own smile. "He hasn't slept here in a while, he just needs to adjust again." Turning back to her, he noticed the pile of folders next to her and reached to take them. "Sorry. I forgot I left those there when the Patronus from the office came in."

"It's fine." Looking down at her eggs, she continued, "I didn't mean to look, but I, uh, accidently-"

"Oh, it's fine," Harry reassured her. "There's nothing classified in here, I promise. Just some administrative paperwork and reports that Robards is having me put together."

"For what?"

"There's been talk of creating an international tribunal for Wizards," he explained, "for when the crimes of Dark Magic are so widespread and horrific that they overwhelm any one single court or criminal division. A team of Aurors from Great Britain and their counterparts in other countries that would monitor the various jurisdictions around the world and work to bring the perpetrators before the tribunal."

"That sounds like an enormous task. I mean, just the scope seems daunting."

"It has been, believe me. Robards has been working on this since before I joined the Division. If we had something like this in place twenty or even ten years ago, a lot of lives could have been saved." Harry glanced over at his godson and Ginny didn't need the ability to read minds to know he was thinking of the parents Teddy would never get to hug or kiss or eat breakfast with. "It's only within the last six months or so we've been able to make significant headway at getting other countries on board with letting their top people go. I understand, though; an eight year commitment to hunting down Dark Wizards is a lot to ask of someone."

"Eight years?" Ginny's eyes flew up to his as the words registered. Harry was the brightest star shining in his department; surely for something this important that he was taking part in organizing, he would be the one to…to go. Her appetite vanished at once and a flash of fear crept with spindly legs up to the back of her neck. If she wasn't already sitting, she would have felt faint. "Wh-Why so long?"

Harry poured more juice in Teddy's cup, watching as the liquid sloshed from the container into the orange cup with the twisty straw. "To build the kind of cases for the tribunal—cases of crimes against whole populations of wizards and witches—it takes a long time. They want to make sure whoever's on the task force is there for the long haul to prevent any delays in arrests and prosecutions." He glanced back at her and his eyes widened in realization at something her face was telling him. "I-I'm not a part of it," he rushed to say. "The task force, I mean. I'm just helping to get the kinks worked out of it before it's announced next month."

Ginny hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath until his words cooled the fire burning in her lungs. Hiding her shaky breath behind a sip of tea, she willed her heart to hold steady and not give out on her. "I just assumed," she said quietly around the rim of her cup, "that if you were putting all this work into it that you'd-"

"I wouldn't just up and leave," Harry cut her off.

_Ask it_, her heart demanded loudly over her the logic screaming in her ears. _Ask it._

"Why not?" Ginny asked giving in to the urge she knew would only cause her more pain. With the masochist she was slowly becoming, she might as well just put a sign on her forehead inviting anyone who saw her to punch her square in the jaw "Why wouldn't you if…if it was something that you clearly believe in and want to see happen? Why would you stay?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but before he could a wet crash broke the bubble they had become encased in. They looked over to see Teddy's juice spilt all over the floor and the front of his shirt. Immediately, Harry sprang forward and began to mop up the mess on the floor. "Because," he said to the linoleum, "someone needs to be here to help Teddy with his aim. Right, Cub?"

"Uh-huh," Teddy agreed, giggling at his godfather. Ginny smiled at the pair of them.

_See? _Her mind almost smirked down at her heart. _Told you so._

"Could you take him upstairs, Ginny, and get him changed, please?" Harry asked from the floor. "He and I need to get to the Ministry soon. We'll be late if we don't hurry."

"Ministry?" she asked, tugging the little boy out of his chair. "I thought you had taken the time off?"

"I did, but Robards called me in before you came down. That's who was at the Floo. A delegation from Eastern Europe that we've been trying to coordinate with had a sudden opening in their schedule and they wanted to tour the Division and speak with some of the Aurors. They've been reluctant to join the tribunal so Robards and Kingsley both think this is a good chance to try to sway them. My secretary will mind Teddy for the day."

An idea sprang forth in Ginny's mind. "Why don't I watch him?"

"Well, you have work this morning. I figured he'd be too much for you at the pub."

"I can switch my shifts and stay here," she said. The excitement of spending a whole day with the little boy was making her words come out fast. "Zaya wanted next Saturday off. I'm sure if I take her shift then, she'll work for me today. It's perfect!"

Using the table to lift himself up, Harry tossed the piled of sopping napkins into the rubbish bin. "Um…are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to put you out."

"You won't be. I'm dying to spend a day with him and this way he won't be all cooped in an office for hours on end." She squeezed Teddy's hand and grinned at him. "Would you like to stay here with me for the day?"

"Yeah!" he cried, dancing in one spot. He turned his doe eyes up to Harry. "Can I, Harry? Can I, please? Please, can I? Can I? Can I? Can I? Can-?"

"You can, you can," Harry replied, putting his hand on Teddy's head to halt his movement. "But I want you on your best behavior, Teddy. Ginny is being very nice to watch you and I don't you giving her any grief. Understand?"

"Yes! Bye, Harry!" Teddy said, giving Harry a quick hug around the knees. He yanked on Ginny's arm to lead her back upstairs. "Come on! Come play in my room, Ginny! I have toys there!"

"As soon as we change your shirt, we'll play," Ginny told him. Just before he pulled her through the threshold, she said goodbye to Harry. "We'll be fine. Good luck with the delegation."

"Yeah, thanks. So his lunch is at noon, just make him a sandwich and some fruit and he'll go for his nap right after that. Listen, if he's fussy or if there's a problem, just Floo the office and I'll come and get him. He can get a little…rambunctious and it's hard to handle sometimes."

If Teddy pulled much harder, her arm was going to pop clear out of the socket. Waving Harry's words off, she let Teddy lead her to the stairs. "Besides," she called back to Harry as he watched them from the kitchen with a flash of uneasy in his eyes, "this will be great practice for me!"

"NNNNNOOOOO!" Teddy screamed at one-thirty that day as Ginny wearily watched him run away from her yet again. "NO NAPS! NO NAPS! NO NAPS!"

"But, Teddy," she tried to reason with him as she followed him into the kitchen; anyone none the wiser would have assumed a hurricane had struck the room. There were bowls all over the floor, a carton of milk that had spilled onto the counter, and peanut butter stains everywhere, including the curtains. "It's after twelve, you need to-"

"NO NAP!" The boy rounded on her, crossing his arms with defiance in his eyes. "Don't want one! I wanna play!"

Ginny sagged against the back of a chair. If he didn't want a bloody nap, she'd gladly take one. "We played all morning, Teddy, remember? Now it's time to rest our eyes and our bodies for a little while."

"No!"

"Yes," she told him, gritting her teeth. Her patience was at an end and she could feel the coils of her dormant magic fraying; if she didn't calm down soon, she was liable to blow the roof off of the house, not to mention any structures within a ten-mile radius.

"No! You're not a boss! I don't listen to you!"

Her entire body shook as she struggled to keep the urge to lash out inside.

There had been times throughout the day when she wanted to Floo for Harry or even just send Teddy himself through there, but she had managed to hold off so far. She didn't want Harry to think she was incapable of a day of child minding when she was only a few months away from becoming a mother. A mother would know exactly what to do or say; her own certainly would. Every time she had tried to drudge up the tried and true Weasley matriarchs parenting techniques from the back of her mind, Teddy would hide under the sofa or decide to try out for drummer of The Weird Sister on the pots and pans. There was barely a moment all day to catch her breath as she raced to prevent one disaster or the next from happening.

_Just…Just get him to sleep and then you can figure out what's next_, she tried to encourage herself. _Certainly Fred and George took naps at some point in their childhoods and they once blew up the broomshed! When they were three! If Mum could wrangle them I can get one four-year-old to listen to me!_

"If you don't go up to your room and lay down right now," she ground out slowly, "then you will be punished."

"NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!" Teddy jumped and stomped all over the floor, rattling drawers and doors all around him. As he continued to shout, Ginny gripped the back of the chair, wishing with everything in her that she could slam the furniture into the wall until it lay in a thousand pieces at her feet.

She was the grown up, Teddy was the child. She was telling him something that would be for his benefit therefore he should listen to her. How hard was that?

To make matters worse, the baby began protesting along with Teddy, jabbing at Ginny's kidneys and making her wince. She bent over the chair, Teddy's screams echoing off the walls.

It had barely been six hours and she had completely lost control of the boy. Growing inside her was a person she would have to have some measure of control over for at least eighteen years. What on Earth had she been thinking? The tears pricked behind her eyes and she slumped her head against the wooden rungs.

_I can't do this_, she thought miserably. The baby continued jabbing her with kicks, everyone a strike against her belief system that motherhood would be an adaptable challenge to her existence. _If I can't manage one little boy for a day, how will I ever take_ _care of innocent child for her entire life? He…He was right. Lionel was right. I'm not-_

Just the sound of his name in her inner voice was like a slap to her face and she shot up, gasping through watery eyes.

"No!" she shouted out loud. The noise was such that Teddy ceased his yelling and stared at her, confused. Breathing in deeply to calm herself, she squatted herself down until she was looking into his round eyes. "Teddy," she said, her words trembling, "I have given you chances to go and take your nap, but you did not listen. Now, you're going to take a time out before you lay down." Taking his hand gently yet firmly, she led him to the steps of the living room and sat him down on the first one. "You will sit here quietly on the naughty step for four minutes and then go to take your nap. If you get up, you have to sit here longer." Ginny went to the coffee table to begin to pick up the debris from playtime.

No sooner had she reached the sofa then Teddy leapt up from the stairs, making beeline back for the kitchen. Steeling herself with the memories of the countless battles she waged just like these with her mother that Molly Weasley had never lost, she went into the kitchen and without a word, brought Teddy back to the living room and the step.

Back and forth the pair of them went; sometimes Teddy was fast enough to almost make it to the back door in the kitchen and sometimes he tried to sneak when her back was turned out the front door. He cried, he yelled, he screamed himself hoarse with such fervor that Ginny had to fight every urge to not clamp her hand over his mouth as she put him back, never saying a word to him. On and on they danced together to the step and back until, almost forty-five minutes after they started, Teddy sat down on the seat, sniffling and laying his head down on his knees.

He stayed there for one minute and then two, which soon became three, and finally—**finally**—the three turned to four.

It was over. Ginny had won.

"Can you tell me why you had to sit on the naughty step, Teddy?" She asked him.

"I didn't listen good," he said, wiping his runny nose with the back of his arm. "I was bad."

"You didn't listen to me when I said you had to take a nap and you made a big scene. That's why you had to go on the step," Ginny corrected him. "Now when you get up from here, I expect you to behave like the big boy I know that you are. If you don't listen again, you have to go back on the step. All right?"

"Okay."

"Will you do as I tell you from now on?"

"Yes, Ginny. I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around her neck and cuddled into her. The warmth of his breath against her skin and the sweet, sweaty smell of messy boy was enough to alleviate the stress of the morning. Kissing the back of his head, she prodded him up. "Now it's time to lay down and rest. You don't need to sleep if you don't want to, but we're going to have quiet time. Would you like to lay down in your room or down here on the couch with me?"

"Couch, please."

"Okay then." Taking his hand, she directed him to the couch, laying him horizontal and covering him with a light blanket. "I'm just going to pick up our drawings. When you get up, we can choose some to put on the refrigerator. Sounds good?"

"Uh-huh." Already his eyes were closes as he nodded. Barely a minute had passed before Teddy was fast asleep, his orange hair fading to its natural brown. At rest, he looked like Tonks.

Crumpling down to the floor, Ginny felt the tears begin again; this time, they were tears of sweet victory.

"We'll be fine," she told the baby quietly. "You're going to drive me round the bend sometimes, I'm sure, but I can take it. Don't you worry about your mum, sweetie. She might be scared and confused and completely feeling her way through this whole motherhood thing blind, but at the end of the day I can take it. I promise."

Wiping her eyes, she surveyed the mess of colored paper on and underneath the coffee table and leaned forward to try and sort through them. If nothing else, Teddy loved to bring his imagination to life through pictures. There were blobs of blue that he swore were killer whales and swirls of yellow for suns. For his age, he was actually quite skilled at shapes and people. His stick figures all had smiling faces, the large letters over their crayoned hair ready to identify them as either Harry, Nana, or his puppy, Omega; there was even a red-headed girl in there that had a big "G" next to her. The lake of Harry's house was a perfect circle and Harry's house was…

Putting her fingers to the construction paper, Ginny bit back the sob in her throat as she looked from the picture she was holding to the walls around her, the memory was one she had long-forgotten.

_That's where I knew this house from…_

_**Stirring underneath the sheets, Ginny reached over only to find cool, empty space where her hand had wanted to feel warm flesh. Blinking her eyes open, she squinted against the darkness and fumbled until she felt the lamp on the bedside table next her. The unfamiliar bedroom became bathed in soft light. **_

"_**Harry?" she whispered, searching the corners of the room and finding nothing. Gingerly getting to her feet, she shivered and went to retrieve the soft navy bathrobe hanging on the door, wrapping it around herself and inhaling. It smelled of Harry and she smiled.**_

_**Tiptoeing through the dark hallways of Grimmauld Place, she made her way down the stairs. There was light coming from the door of the sitting room and she walked towards it, nudging the door open as quietly as she could to find Harry hunched in one the armchairs, looking away from her at a spot on the wall, a few papers and photographs scattered at his feet. Resting her head against the doorjamb, Ginny calmed her nerves before she entered. Harry looked towards her and smiled. **_

"_**Hey," she whispered to him, pasting a smile on her face that her heart didn't feel.**_

"_**You should be asleep," he gently admonished, giving her a lopsided grin of his own that she was certain was just as forced as her own.**_

"_**I sleep better when you're there with me." Sliding into his lap, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head underneath his chin. "You can ask my roommates at school if you don't believe me."**_

"_**No, I believe you." He nuzzled his nose into the top of her head. "I know you'd never lie to me, Ginny. Not you."**_

"_**Will you tell me what happened?" His muscular arms tensed around her and she pulled up to look in his eyes, hating the sight of that blasted stubble and the bruising circles under his eyes. "Luv, I was brave enough to ask not only my parents but McGonagall to let me spend Hogsmeade weekend here with you in London. Believe me I'm much less scary than them."**_

_**Not as scary as she had been when she had seen the article in the Prophet yesterday morning, recounting the harrowing mission Harry had been involved in, trying to capture a witch experimenting with deadly potions on orphaned children. The raid had left the witch and two Aurors in Harry's class dead, in addition to five children under the age of seven. The picture the paper had run of Harry staring down bereft at two small body bags and the look in his eyes had nearly sent Ginny into hysterics. She had raced up to the Headmistress's office and promptly asked her—no, told her—that if Ginny wasn't allowed a weekend furlough to make sure that Harry was alright, she was leaving the castle that night and never returning. After giving barely half an effort in the fight, McGonagall had sent an owl to Ginny's parents and a few hours later, Ginny was standing on the steps of Grimmauld Place. The wards allowed her to knock on the door. Harry saw it was her, and after confirming her identity through a series of questions, yanked her in the house and up to the bedroom, where they remained with each other in their own world of harsh breathing and soft touches until now.**_

_**Harry studied her for a long moment, taking the time to brush his fingertips through her hair and over the skin of her cheeks. "I can't," he finally admitted. "I can't let that darkness touch you. Not after all you've been through. I won't let that hurt you ever again."**_

"_**But it is hurting me, Harry," she argued. "It's hurting me because I can see how much it's hurting you and you won't let me help you."**_

"_**Gin-"**_

"_**You won't let anyone help you. Not Hermione or Ron or my family or anyone in your department or any of your old teachers or friends. You just keep slipping out of everyone's grasp and soon it'll be my turn. I…I don't want to lose you."**_

_**He stared at her uncomprehendingly before he smiled as if she just told the funniest joke he had ever heard. "You will never lose me, Ginny."**_

'_**But I already am,' she started to say when he put his fingers over her lips, his smile slipping. "I'm telling you that I'm alright. I've been telling everyone that for months now and it doesn't get through the idea they all seem to have that…that I'm broken; it's like they want me to be damaged beyond repair so they get a chance to save me for once." He laughed to himself, playing with the fabric that covered Ginny's collarbone.**_

"_**Is that really what you think?" she asked, horrified. Harry didn't answer, just pressed his lips to her neck and licked the skin lightly. Tugging him up, Ginny held his face between her hands. "Harry, look at me. Is that how you feel?" Covering her hands with his, Harry tried to pull away but Ginny held fast. "Remember what you told me in the hospital, when I was lying on that bed, wishing for all the world that you would leave me because I was too damaged for you? You told me I needed to heal and the only way to do that was to talk, to tell other people what I was feeling and understand that they'd still love me." He shut his eyes tight against the memory and Ginny leaned forward to kiss the closed lids, tasting salty wetness on her lips. "Just talk to me, luv."**_

_**Shaking in her arms, she barely heard the words he whispered in her ears. "I…I…I can't."**_

"_**Har-"**_

"_**I mean, I can't talk to you about it," he admitted. A knife cut through her heart, the serrated edges of it digging a hole as it twisted and turned against her. Harry struggled to explain. "I love you," he said fiercely, keeping his eyes locked on hers, their foreheads touching, "more than my own life. But so much of what I'm…what I think of, it's…it's tied up in things that have to do with the war, with things I will not let you relive if I can help it. Especially now, when you'll be going off to training camp soon and-"**_

"_**Sod the Harpies! Sod finishing school and sod ever leaving this house again if that's what keeping you from getting help!" She couldn't hold the tears back, not anymore. **_

_**Not when he was putting her life above his own. He wasn't allowed to do that anymore.**_

"_**Please don't say that," he begged her, pulling her down to his chest. "I can't have you saying those things."**_

"_**Well, I can't have you do nothing to save yourself." She felt his fingers flit through her hair and she burrowed further into his embrace. This wasn't right, it wasn't fair. The only thing that had gotten her through the last year at school, mending herself and her fellow students from the sadism the Carrows inflicted upon them, was the knowledge that when the war was over and Voldermort defeated, she could have a happy life with Harry. They could be together without any threats to their happiness and pursue their dreams as a team.**_

_**She had never counted on themselves and their own shared yet singularly twisted psyches being the real threat to their future. As he had progressed over the last summer—smiling easier, finding a job, and participating more in the activities around him with those who loved him—Ginny had slipped further into herself, unwilling to have Harry shoulder any of her heavy burden, almost reaching the point where oblivion from life was craved. And now that she was the one recovering, moving on with her life, Harry was the one left adrift and reluctant to reach his hand out to her.**_

_**Was this a game either of them could win? Or should they just-**_

"_**I'll get the name of a counselor at work," he said suddenly, cutting off her thoughts before she could see them through to the end. He tugged her chin up to look down at her. "I'll talk to someone. I promise you I will." He kissed her soundly on the lips."**_

"_**Maybe," she began when they pulled a part a few moments later, "maybe we could go together and talk to someone." Harry looked uncertain and, with a fair amount of guilt in her heart, Ginny decided to play on his weakness for his own good. "I know that I'd feel better if we were doing this together."**_

_**His eyes softened and after a minute, he nodded in agreement. "Okay. We'll figure out something that works for your schedule."**_

"_**For both of our schedules," she said quietly. **_

_**As joyful as she was that Harry was willing to take such a huge leap, a part of her wondered if it would really do any good. If they could heal the way the needed to together.**_

_**Ginny thought back to something Neville had once said. The budding herbologist could lecture for hours about the various plants and fauna he studied as a teaching assistant to Professor Sprout. Last month at the beginning of April, when the bloom of spring had begun, he had talked incessantly about a plant called a Silatel Vine. It was a root plant that grew deep from the ground and had the most stunning blossoms gracing its vines, velvety petals of shimmering, almost iridescent white.**_

"_**Untended," Neville had said to his fellow Gryffindor's in the Great Hall at dinner one night, "they have relatively short life spans. The trick to caring for one is knowing that the one plant actually has two root systems trapped inside one space. In order for a Silatel Vine to flourish, the roots need to be separated from each other or else you lose them both."**_

_**Shivering at even the furthest recognition of the idea, Ginny wrapped herself tighter around Harry, curling her legs up to join him on the chair. That solution was just…just…unimaginable. **_

_**Looking for a distraction, Ginny glanced down at some of the papers on the floor around them. Bending very carefully, she pulled up a faded child's drawing of a misshapen house smudged with dirt. "What's this?" she asked Harry.**_

_**He smiled softly. "That," he told her, taking the picture in his own hands, "is my dream house. It was in an old box that had some things in it I had gotten from Privet Drive when I went there to sign over the property to the real estate office, since no one in the world has any idea where Vernon, Petunia, and Big D disappeared to. I drew it in primary school, for art class, and then buried it in a spot in the backyard to keep it away from my cousin. My teacher had said it was brilliant and gave me the gold star up here in the corner." He traced the cracked sticker that hung with white fluffy clouds; the square house underneath it was wide with two stories, a path of different colored stones leading to the front door, and a big blue splotch in the background that didn't quite reach the edges of the paper. **_

_**She pointed it out to him. "And that?"**_

"_**My lake," he said with a smile. "I had wanted to live near the water ever since I went to the beach for a day and got to touch my toes in the ocean. It felt better than anything, feeling the water rush past my ankles and the sand pulling away from the shore. After Dudders Darlin' left me buried in the sand later that day, I figured lakes were a safer bet."**_

"_**You should build it someday," she said, feeling peace with the way his voice sounded when he spoke of good dreams and the few happy memories he had of childhood. **_

"_**We'll see."**_

"_**No really, Harry. You should build it." Getting him out of Grimmauld Place and the decay of the (mostly) wretched Black family would be nothing but wondrous for him. Sitting up, she continued, "You have enough money to buy your land; just pick a spot somewhere in the world that gives you peace and build your house there. Something just for you and no one else; something that lets you be you."**_

"_**Yeah?"**_

"_**Think of it as an investment in your future if spending the money is what's holding you back."**_

_**Harry nodded slowly, staring down at the drawing again. "Yeah," he repeated, deep in thought. "Something for my future." He kept his eyes on the chimney sprouting up from the roof. "Something for my family," he said under his breath. They were sitting so close that there was no possible way for Ginny not to hear it.**_

"_**Family…You mean with, uh, kids and everything?"**_

"_**Uh-huh." He kissed her exposed shoulder blade. "Five of them, actually."**_

"_**Five?" She struggled to not hyperventilate. This was a topic that had never come up between them and now may not be the best time to address it. "That's…That's a lot, whole hand really."**_

"_**Two boys." His kisses trailed ever so slowly up her neck as the paper dropped to the side. "Two girls and then a tiebreaker."**_

_**Five seemed like such a huge number. Against her will, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to Harry's smooth lips mixed with his scratchy stubble mapping out her flesh, she could almost see them all. Not their faces, just a mishmash of red and black hair in varying heights. If she pushed her anxieties and her fears with all her might to the deepest part of her mind and soul she could see them. Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and leaned her head back into his shoulder. **_

"_**They need names," she heard herself whisper breathlessly Why was she still talking? This wasn't something they should be thinking of. Not now, not with the chaos of their lives. "Can't just call them Boy/ Girl One and Two and Tiebreaker their whole lives. They'll be teased at school."**_

_**Harry's movement stilled and the wanton, reckless side of her screamed in protest. "Maybe…maybe we could use my parents' names?" he murmured into her ear. "James and Lily?"**_

_**Children were several years, maybe even a whole decade away (if at all) from her reality and yet she was positive she now knew their names. Her first son would be James and her first daughter Lily. They were real now. As much she wanted to deny it, they were so very real. Hell, the reckless, wanton side of her was even trying to convince the rational, steady side of her that if she played her cards right, she could create one of them right now.**_

_**No, that wouldn't do, though. Children needed both their parents—mother and father—ready for them and neither she nor Harry were in a place for them. But maybe someday, if they could find a way past their demons, maybe they could meet their James and Lily. **_

_**She turned and straddled his thighs, shrugging the now-cumbersome robe off her body. "I like those names," Ginny managed to say to Harry before her mouth descended on his.**_

The crack of Apparition from the kitchen pulled her back to present with the swiftness of an actual Apparition. Struggling to her feet, she left the picture on the coffee table and checked to make sure that Teddy was still sound asleep before she went into the messy kitchen to find Harry standing there, his robes askew and his face completely blank.

Seeing him there in front of her, with the knowledge of her dormant memory wrapped around her the way Harry's bathrobe had once been, was startling.

"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, for lack of anything better to say. "I know it's a mess in here and I should have cleaned it, I just had the most awful time trying to get Teddy down for a nap, but he did, finally, and um, then I was trying to sort through out in the living room which looks even worse than this if you can believe it and I…" He hadn't moved since she started speaking, hadn't moved since he came into the room. He was a statue, unmoving and unhearing it seemed.

Taking a chance, she stepped close to lay her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "Harry…Harry, are you alright?" Now that her words where closer to him, he was able to acknowledge them, at least. His eyes moved down to stare at the hand on his shoulder. "Did something happen at work, with the delegation or is-?"

"Ron knows," he said stoically.

_Oh no, _Ginny thought as she bit down on her lip. _Please Ron, please tell me you were matu- alright, I know that's not possible. Please at least have not thrown any curses at Harry._

"What does he know exactly?" Ginny asked, just to try to understand what she was about to deal with.

"Everything. Where I live, how long I've lived here, that **you** live here with me." Harry walked away from her and began laughing, shades of Sirius's maniacal chuckle carrying over through his godson. "We were just…just sitting in the office, after the delegation had left and he started up on you again, for some reason. I don't even know where it came from or how long it went on before I just…blurted the whole story out. I've never seen him that…that …his face actually did turn maroon for a few seconds."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing," Harry said, "just pulled his wand and aimed right for me." Ginny cupped her hands over her mouth and shook her head. "Don't worry," he continued with as much ease as he could force into his voice, "the Bat-Bogey Hex had already hit his face before his mouth opened."

_Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are soooo lucky I couldn't bear to see another brother in a coffin because that is the only thing saving you from my wrath right now._


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Okay, this took a little longer than I anticipated, in addition to not being able to squeeze everything in this chapter that I originally wanted to. Such is life, I suppose. Big thanks to my betas who helped fine tune the this piece and helped me to quell any doubts I had about where to go. Please, as always, read, review, and rejoice!**

There was no sound in the house for the next few moments, save for Teddy's soft snoring coming from the living room. Harry sat down at the kitchen table with his shoulders slumped while Ginny stayed rooted to the floor. What was there to say? What good would words do now?

Harry had most likely just lost his best friend and Ginny a brother. How would speaking possibly combat that? Still, looking at Harry as yet another loss was added to the weight of his heart spurned something inside her to take action, any action, no matter that she might be caught in between the ricochet of her own upheaval.

Anything to try and ease his pain if she could.

Ginny had taken her first step forward when a blinding white light burst into the room. They both jumped and Harry stood at attention. When the glow had dimmed slightly, she was able to make out the gleaming form of an otter floating in the kitchen.

"One of the Aurors came and got me after you left, Harry,"Hermione's voice airily said to them both. "Ron just took off for who knows where, but he told me everything before he left. I'm waiting by the Floo in my office to hear from you. Please contact me immediately, both of you…either of you…please." The Patronus faded into nothingness. There was stunned stillness for a few beats more. Everything in both of their worlds had shifted off course from where it had started this morning.

Harry spoke first.

"I can't," he whispered. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where the tiny otter had vanished. "I can't…not both in one day…I just…"

_Can't risk losing them both in one day_, Ginny's mind finished. _Poor boy. Will he ever be able to fully trust that those he loves won't leave him? Then again, look who's talking; I did more than my share to contribute to that cause._

The bitter taste of truth that particular thought brought was enough to drown out her inhibitions for once. Reaching out, before reasoning and logic could tell her not to, she took one of Harry's hands in both of hers and brought it to her lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles.

It was the first time in years her lips had touched his skin. Unlike the rest of Harry and Ginny, nothing much had changed between these parts of them in that time apart. There was the tiniest sliver of a scar just underneath where she pressed her mouth to him, but her eyes never spotted it. Lips, though, could take in much, much more than sight could hope to.

_I wonder if he still tastes the same..._ Ginny couldn't help thinking, nearly moaning in pleasure despite herself.

Immediately, she released his hand as if burned by it and turned away before she could see what would surely be a look of piteous confusion on his face. "I'll use the Floo in your study, if-if that's alright," she said, making her way out of the room. "Teddy's…he's sleeping on the couch." She didn't give him a chance to say anything else before she shot out of the room and up the stairs.

Ginny was aghast at herself.

_What are you playing at? His worst fears in life were just realized so now it must be the perfect time to consider licking every inch of skin on his hand? How daft can be one person be?_

She stopped in front of the door to his study to compose herself. "He doesn't need that from you right now," Ginny told herself. "All he needs you to do right now is to speak to Hermione and try to undo whatever damage has been done." She entered the room with renewed purpose and knelt carefully in front of the small fireplace. She lit the small pile of wood and kindling, leaning back on her haunches for the flames to take life.

Like so many other things in her life, her estrangement from Hermione had happened begrudgingly before her very eyes. They had always gotten along very well growing up the only two females surrounded by so many boys, but it wasn't until their seventh (technically, Hermione's eighth) year at school that the closeness of their friendship had solidified. They shared many of their classes and Ginny was at last able to avail herself of the study resource that was Hermione Granger. Not that their relationship was predicated on how well Ginny's grades improved under Hermione's tutelage; they found they had much more in common than ever before. Both were seen as leaders by the incoming classes, Hermione as Head Girl and Ginny as a Quidditch captain; both were lonely as they each had boyfriends far away who were risking their lives yet again; and both had survived a war that had claimed a piece of them they would never get back.

Hermione had been the one to find her in the Gryffindor bathroom, bloodied and broken nearly beyond repair. After Ginny was released from the Hospital Wing, Hermione had walked her down to the nondescript classroom every Thursday at 3:15pm for her counseling appointments with the psychological Healer from St. Mungos, made sure she was getting enough rest, went down to the Great Hall for every meal with her, sat next to her in all of their classes, and shot anyone who dared throw her a curious gaze a look of pure venom. After she was more steadily on her feet, it was Ginny's turn to listen to Hermione's still-strained relationship with her parents, for it had taken the Grangers many months to forgive their daughter for what she had done to them in the name of their safety. In the interim, Ginny offered Hermione her ear and shoulder whenever it was needed and quizzed Hermione endlessly for NEWTs to distract her from killing Ron when the prat had forgotten to send her a Valentine's Day gift. When she was finally up for getting back on a broom, Hermione sat cheering her on in the stands, albeit usually with a thick tome in her lap. They talked late into the night sometimes of their dreams for the future over braided hair and chocolate raspberry truffles from Honeydukes as they made plans for all the vacations they would drag Harry and Ron off to when they all got married to each other.

It had been Ginny's first experience with having a sister. She had no idea what her brothers had been complaining about for all those years.

Of course, she had found a way to destroy it, although she was more than happy to share some of the blame for that one with Hermione. After she had ended things with Harry, Hermione had made it her personal mission to try to find both the cause and solution of the problem in their relationship. She didn't accept Ginny's reasoning that Harry cared more for his job than for her and was determined to uncover the truth. Tenaciousness was normally one of her more admirable qualities, but not that time. Learning why Ginny had done what she had done would do no good. If Hermione knew the truth behind why she had left Harry, that it had been for him to heal without being burdened by worry for her, Hermione would have been duty-bound to go to her true best friend with the information. After five days straight of trying to dodge the bushy-haired witch's endless questions, Ginny had finally exploded.

"IT ENDED BECAUSE THINGS END, HERMIONE!" Ginny had raged in the privacy of her bedroom. Everything inside her was still raw and aching from losing Harry and control over herself was more than she could muster. Why couldn't Hermione just leave things be? "THAT'S ALL THERE IS! LET IT GO!"

Hermione didn't even flinch. "You love him," she said simply. "You've loved him since you were a girl. That doesn't just go away overnight. I think that-"

"Well, here's something that might surprise you: Not everyone in this world gives a rat's shite about what you think! Maybe you should spend some time worrying about your own relationship instead of trying to save ones that are already over and done with."

"What is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just that I saw that recruit in Ron's class the other day, I think her name is Shannon. Very pretty girl, she is: smoldering blue eyes, perfectly pouted lips, and a body designed by the gods. She seemed quite taken with him, to be honest." It wasn't honest; it was just the first thing Ginny could think of to rile Hermione up.

The other witch crossed her arms tightly and shifted slightly on her feet. "And I should care because…?"

"Because maybe," Ginny continued, fighting hard to keep her voice and her eyes cruel, "she's willing to give him something that you're just not ready for yet. That would smart, wouldn't it? You hung the stars over his head for seven long years and risked life and limb for Ron before he finally took notice of you, only to have something as stupid as waiting to sleep together until you're married push him away." She clucked her tongue derisively. "How pathetic."

It stunned Ginny to see Hermione Jean Granger—a witch who had been personally tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange—let such words, such nothingness, bring tears to her eyes. Not that she'd ever dare let them fall in Ginny's presence.

"I'm glad to see how much stronger you are now," she spat out as she strode for the door. "It shows me how easily you'll handle getting through whatever you're going through all by yourself!"

The slam of the door was the final communication between them for some time.

Ginny hadn't seen her again until two months later, at the World Cup the entire Weasley clan had gathered for off the coast of Japan. She had been offered a roster spot as a reserve based on her try-out with the Harpies and amazingly, had been put into play when one of the Chasers left with a concussion. Hermione had waited until the celebration had dimmed to offer her quiet congratulations and it had given Ginny a chance to offer her apology for her behavior. Slowly, very slowly, friendship began to develop between them again, though it was never anywhere near what it had been when it was enclosed in the walls of Hogwarts. But Ginny wouldn't let herself be offended by the distance. Hermione was Harry's friend before hers. It was only fair that she chose him in the end.

The flames danced high in front of her and Ginny knew the moment could no longer be avoided. Throwing a fistful of powder into the fireplace, she waited until the flames turned green before leaning in and shouting, "Ministry of Magic, office of Hermione Granger!" It only took a moment for the orderly office to come into focus. She could see Hermione's feet pacing a frantic path across the floor. They stopped as the Floo activated and Hermione rushed over to receive the call.

"Ginny…" she said slowly, taking in her old friend's features before offering a tiny smile. "I wish, I mean, it **is **good to see you and all, I just…"

"Wish the circumstances were tweaked a bit, I know. I'm glad to see you, too." Ginny gave her a smile in return. "How are you?"

Sadness washed over Hermione's face. "Well, before your brother tried to launch a curse at my best friend, I was actually having a nice day. It went downhill pretty quickly after that. Did Harry tell you what happened?"

"Just the bare minimum. He's a bit upset himself."

"I'd feel sorrier for him if there wasn't a part of me that didn't want to slap him upside the head. Or you, for that matter."

Ginny's insides squirmed. "Hermione…"

"Harry's relationship with Meredith ends completely out of nowhere; you've quit Quidditch and you're pregnant by a man that you won't even name; and in the middle of it all, you and Harry are living together in some secret society that Ron holds in nearly as much contempt as Death Eaters." Hermione shook her head in disappointment. "How did we lose you both so much and hardly even notice?"

"You didn't," Ginny tried to deny.

Hermione was having none of it. "Please, you've both done everything you can to exile yourselves away from the entire family," she countered angrily, "although Harry at least still has the decency or the courage to show up to Weasley lunches and dinners more than once every six months. He at least makes an effort to reach out to people, even if it's for nothing more than to let them know what country he's in instead of having to read about in the papers. He doesn't break the hearts of his surrogate parents by spending the weekend of their wedding anniversary romping through the beaches in Bali."

_How dare she?_ Ginny thought as she glared viciously through the flames, stung by Hermione's superior tone. _Doesn't she know that…wait, how could she? I didn't tell her. I didn't tell anyone in my family why…I just assumed they understood…_

She closed her eyes as her anger turned inward, wishing when she opened them that everything was simple again. When she had been a child, she longed for adventures and seeing the world. To stand apart from her family with the freedom of a bird.

Now all she desired was a life free of explaining herself to those she loved.

"I didn't stay away because I wanted to," she admitted quietly. "I stayed away so Harry wouldn't have to. So he wouldn't feel pushed out of the only family he's ever had. I love you all so much and you have no idea how much my heart missed being truly a part of our family, but…but I couldn't do that to Harry." She lowered her eyes in shame. "Not after what I had already done to him."

"Why, Ginny, why?" Hermione implored, her harsh tone softening. "Why did you hurt him like that? I saw with my own eyes how happy he was with you in school those weeks before Dumbledore died, how hard he fought to kill Voldermort so he could find a way back to that. And even when you were going through your…your troubles that last year, you were both so complete when you were together." She laughed with a bit of sadness. "I am smarter than any ten witches out there and for the life of me I have never been able to understand why you ended things with him."

"He wouldn't get better," Ginny whispered. "That last year, when I started doing so well, he fell apart before my eyes and I couldn't save him. He was so scared of pulling me down into the dark hole with him that he wouldn't try to get out of it. I believed…I believed that if I wasn't in the picture anymore that he'd have a chance to get better, to be happy again. That was all I wanted for him, Hermione, I swear."

"And you never gave any thought to the fact that losing you might very well bury him in that dark hole you wanted to save him from?"

It was Ginny's turn to laugh sadly. "There was a time in his life when he didn't love me. He'd remember that again and move on, simple as that. And he did. He made a good life for himself here in Hastom. He has peace here. He's not anyone's hero in this village, he's just Harry. To live far away from the expectations of everyone else in the world and just be."

"All that peace cost him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with," Hermione said simply.

_No, Hastom didn't cost him Meredith. That one's on my shoulders._

"Well, now that he has it," Ginny began, "I won't let my idiot brother take it from him. Or you." Her eyes narrowed. "Does it make you angry that he lives here? Has Ron thoroughly convinced you of the evils he believes are here?"

"Of course not," Hermione said with a sigh. "I hate that Harry's lied for all these years, but I understand why he felt he had to. I guess I never really understood until today how deeply Ron feels about Hastom."

"Neither did I. Has he said anything to you?"

"When I got to the office, he mumbled out what had happened between him and Harry, kicked a rubbish bin clear across the room, and Apparated before I could get a word in edgewise. I imagine he's on his third or fourth pint by now." She rolled her eyes, blowing a stray curl out of her face. "How are we going to fix this, Ginny?"

Ginny saw flashes of her third year, when Ron and Harry were fighting over that blasted Tri-Wizard Tournament, as she and Hermione tried to devise strategies (short of knocking both of the boys skulls together numerous times) to bring the two best mates back together. The girls had been a team then and it looked like they needed to be one again now.

Although this time, Ginny was much more open to skull bashing, as long as it involved Ron and a brick wall.

"Well, we need to get them in a room together as soon as possible, for starters. It'll probably be best if it's away from Hastom, which means I won't be able to be there. What do you suggest?"

"I think," Hermione said, looking away in thought, "maybe it would be better if we let Ron cool down a bit first before we have him try to hash things out with Harry or with you. I say that only because you haven't seen or heard his raging soliloquies about Hastom or…or you these past few weeks and coupled with what he just found out a little while ago, he's liable to do something truly unforgivable unless we give him time to calm down."

"Hermione, you didn't see Harry when he came home," Ginny argued. "I can't even describe it. He honestly believes he's lost Ron forever and you as well."

"Harry would have to do many more things worse than keeping his address a secret for him to ever lose me," Hermione assured her, "and if you don't want Ron out of both your lives forever, trust me when I tell you the best thing to do is to give him his space. Let him get all the anger out of his system away from you two before it does any further damage. He and I are leaving in two days so I can speak at a conference in Quebec. We'll be gone for three weeks and I'll have him there to myself with no outside distractions. I'll get through to him and then we can find time for the four of us to all work this mess out. Together."

"How are you so sure that Ron will come around?"

"Because Ronald Weasley does things that are impetuous and impulsive and that no one else in the world can understand or even see to begin with because they only exist in his mind. But do you know what else he does?"

"What?"

"He comes back to you, even when you've completely given up hope. Believe me, I speak from experience."

Ginny didn't relish the thought of spending weeks with Harry as he stewed over the state of disarray his friendship with Ron was in. However, if a short time of discontent could lead to a lifetime of shared pints, embarrassing stories, and fierce camaraderie between the two men, it was a price Ginny was willing to pay.

Hopefully, Harry would, too.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "Fine, Ron and Harry shouldn't speak for a little while. What about Ron and me? Would it help if I…I sent another letter or tried to Floo or…?"

Hermione shook her head. "Give him time, Ginny."

"I wrote to him weeks ago, he can't still-"

"You're his little sister, you're having a baby under far from ideal circumstances, you're living in a place he reviles, and he just found out you're living with his best friend." She shrugged helplessly. "Not to mention he still hasn't completely forgiven you for breaking that best friend's heart three years ago."

Ginny's heart chilled and she shivered, despite the warmth that the Floo connection offered. "I didn't mean…I didn't know what that decision would cost me at the time. What it would cost all of us."

"Would your choice have been the same if you had known?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted around the lump in her throat and she brought her hand to her belly. "It would. It's terribly selfish to say or even think, but my choice…I will always choose my child first. I hope someday you and Ron can both understand that."

Hermione was quiet, struggling to keep her emotions held close. "I…I am happy for you. In regards to the baby, I mean," she said. "I wanted to write and tell you, I just didn't know if you'd want to hear from me. We haven't exactly…I wasn't a good friend to you three years ago. I knew something else was behind your decision to leave Harry and I didn't fight hard enough to reach you. Maybe if I had things could have been different."

"Or much worse. We can never be certain." Ginny smiled a little. "And I'll always want to hear from you."

"Me too." Hermione reached across the connection to take her hand for a squeeze. "Give Harry my love and tell him to call me when he's ready. We're all going to get through this together."

_I hope so._

"I know," she said out loud.

Walking down the steps a few moments later, Ginny couldn't help but think of how one decision she had made so many years ago still rippled through her life and the lives of those she held most dear. It hadn't been a lie when she told Hermione she wouldn't change what she had done. Not only for what it brought her future, but also because there had been no other way she could think of for Harry to get the help he needed unless their ties were severed. Still, the cost was a hefty one: So much time lost with her family and so much pain for them all.

Especially Harry.

She found him sitting on the sofa. Teddy was still asleep and Harry had maneuvered the boy so he was lying across Harry's chest. Ginny joined him, perching herself as best she could next to Harry on the arm of the couch.

"Are you alright?" she asked, watching as he stroked Teddy's back.

"I'm not sure." He kissed the top of Teddy's head and turned his head up to look at her. "There are moments when everything just…just makes perfect sense. Nothing in the universe can hurt me." He took one of her hands. "And then…"

"It all comes crashing down," she finished, knowing the feeling all too well. "That's why we need to hold onto the good in our lives so much. To make it easier for those troubling times with irksome brothers and best friends to bear."

"I suppose."

"Speaking of best friends, call Hermione when you can. She wants to talk to you when you feel up to it."

"She does?"

"Yes, very much. There's a lot you need to tell her and that she wants to tell you."

"She doesn't, um, she doesn't…" He struggled to get the words out.

"No, she doesn't hate you," Ginny told him. "She never could. You're family. And it may not feel like it right now, but Ron doesn't hate you either. The three of you will make this right again."

"You think so?"

_I hope so_.

"I do," she said, hoping she wasn't lying yet again.

She was saved from contemplating that by Teddy's stirring. Stretching his small limbs in Harry's grasp, he yawned until Ginny was sure his jaw would unhinge as he rubbed his slowly opening eyes. He stared up blearily at Harry and Ginny. "Hi," he whispered, staying snuggled in his godfather's embrace.

"Hello," Harry said with a loving smile. "Did you have a good rest?"

"Uh-huh."

"I hope that you were very good for Ginny today."

Teddy molded himself even tighter against Harry, looking up at Ginny with wide, guilty eyes. "Uh-uh," he admitted.

"No?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm not too happy to hear that. What happened, Cub?"

"Well," Ginny answered, nudging Harry gently until he slid over to give her space to sit next to him and Teddy, "we had a good morning, drawing pictures and building castles with the blocks. It was only after lunch that you had some trouble listening, but you did eventually. You stayed on that naughty step for your timeout and you showed me how big you're getting to be. So we'll start again from here and I know that you're going to do your best to listen to me and Harry." She pinched his nose gently between her fingers, eliciting a small smile from him. "Right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Excellent." She smiled at Harry, who was staring at her in bemusement.

"Naughty step?" He mouthed over Teddy's head.

"I'll explain later," she replied in kind. Turning back to Teddy, she tickled his belly lightly. "What would you like to do the rest of the day, young man?"

"Play Quidditch in the yard," he giggled as he squirmed away from her fingers.

"Quidditch?" Harry replied. "I think we can manage to get you up in the air." He hoisted Teddy up in the air. "Teddy Lupin, star Beater for the Appleby Arrows takes to the sky! The crowd is roaring with glee, watching the Quidditch wunderkind light up the air with every swing of his bat!"

The baby, perhaps responding to Teddy's outburst of glee, offered a series of swift kicks in reply. "Hey! Your tummy just moved!" Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise at Teddy's observation and looked down to see her shirt pulsating ever so at the spots where she felt the baby moving on the inside. "That's neat!"

"It is," Ginny agreed with wonder. "That's my baby moving inside me. She's never moved like that before." Grinning, she looked over to see a gobsmacked look on Harry's face as he lowered Teddy back to his lap. Struck by an idea, she took Teddy's hand. "Do you want to feel her kicking?"

Teddy shook his head furiously and leaned back against Harry. "No! I don't wanna get kicked! That's mean!"

"Oh, it doesn't hurt, sweetheart, I promise."

The boy glanced up at Harry for reassurance. "Really?"

Harry hesitated for moment before he smiled at Teddy. "How about, if it's alright with Ginny, we feel the baby kick together? You and me both." He looked to her for confirmation. As much as he had talked with the baby at times, he always asked her permission to initiate physical contact, save that night on the dock when he had given her his land. Ginny had just assumed his first experience when she had forcibly placed his hand on her belly had made him a bit hesitant to the subject.

Biting her lip, she nodded in agreement. Slowly, as Ginny placed Teddy's hand over the spot where she felt the baby kicking, Harry put his own hand next to Teddy's. Both of their eyes sparked alive when Iris gave them her own greeting. It was truly a feeling like nothing she had ever experienced, sharing such an intimate moment with two people she loved.

To anyone watching from the outside, the three—well, four—of them could have almost been…

"Wow!" Teddy exclaimed excitedly.

"Wow," Harry murmured quietly under his breath.

_Wow_, Ginny thought silently, knowing she had found a good memory of her own to combat any trying times ahead.

The good memory had faded somewhat as October began its end and Ginny stared dejectedly into the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Not matter what outfit or pose she tried, the reflection refused to work with her. If it wasn't the pimples breaking out along her jaw line, it was the sagging of her weighty bosom, or the swollen feet that no shoe or foot rub could relieve. The white flower-printed shift dress that had looked so appealing in the store now made her feel like a sausage encased in soft cotton.

"Are you almost ready, Gin?" Harry called up the stairs to her.

"No, damn it! Of course I'm not!" Ginny shouted back, wincing as she straightened out her back to relieve a kink and caught sight of her huge stomach at a side angle. There was no way she would ever survive two more months of this.

Harry hesitated. "It's just…it's Nell's birthday and we said we'd be over at her place at six for dinner and that was, uh, well about forty minutes ago, so…"

The urge to throw a Stunning Spell at Harry (or at the blasted mirror) was such that Ginny could feel it racing down into the tips of her fingers. "What? You think I'm addled now in addition to being a behemoth? I bloody well know what day it is and what time it is!" she barked at him. Giving the mirror one more traitorous glare, she picked up her purse and made her way slowly down the stairs to find Harry waiting for her by the front door, holding her cloak out for her and Nell's present.

He smiled cautiously as he wrapped the cloak over her shoulders. "You look lovely, Gin. The dress makes you…" He trailed off as he noticed how deeply her eyes had narrowed.

"You think it's funny? I can't even look down to see if I put matching socks on my feet and all you have to say is that I look 'lovely'? I think it's time for a new prescription on those lenses, Potter!"

He pulled the door open for them and followed her out into the chilly evening air. "I just meant that-"

"And don't you dare start spouting off any rubbish about me being 'glowing' or 'radiant' or 'lighting the evening sky with the brilliance of my beauty' because I know it's all hogwash!"

"What am I-?"

"It feels like it takes hours to find something to wear that won't dig two inches into my waist after ten minutes," she continued unabated, "if I even start to think about the size of my underthings nowadays, I'll start sobbing, and I'm afraid to even look at certain shoes because I'm paranoid I won't be able to take them off at the end of the day! So never again try to tell me how lovely I look, Harry, because I have no tolerance for liars anymore." He stayed silent on the subject and he fell a few steps behind her as they continued on quietly. When they reached the crest of the hill that took them to the path into Hastom, Ginny gasped, first in relief as the throbbing in her feet eased, then in anger as she rounded on Harry when she realized what he had done. "You just used wandless magic on me, didn't you?"

"Yes," he admitted without stopping his stride.

"How dare you?" Never mind that walking was no longer a practice in slow torture, there was a principle to be defended. "I've told you that I didn't want-"

"I'm quite aware of your feelings on the subject, Ginevra."

"Then you know that if I can't use magic for my own benefit, I certainly do not want someone else-"

"I do know. Not a moron, here. Pick out my own clothes in the morning and everything."

Positively growling, she planted her feet—her gloriously pain-free feet—in the ground and crossed her arm as if she were a petulant child. "What gives you the right to-?"

"I don't like seeing you in pain, okay?" Finally fed up, he turned back to her. "I listen to you every day complain about how uncomfortable you are and all you'll ever let me do is rub your feet at the end of the day and maybe, if I'm lucky, run you a warm bath upstairs! I could do more, much more, but you're too stubborn to let me so I just went ahead and did it! Forgive me for not being able to hear you suffering without bloody well doing something about it!"

Ginny stared in shock at Harry's back as he slowly walked further along the path, stunned out of her annoyance at the passion with which he spoke. She could honestly say that all her focus lately had been on her own discomfort and not on what that vocal objection to said discomfort was doing to him. So consumed by her own misery was she, Ginny had never taken the time to consider how her sometimes loud moans and sighs of pain around the house had made Harry feel. He had a right to a peaceful time in his own home, after all. He shouldn't have to endure her noisy suffering at the end of a long day.

What a terrible friend she was.

"Thank you," she whispered when she had caught up with him, "and I'm sorry. For being such a stereotype of a witch lately."

He put his arm gingerly around her shoulder and tugged her close for a squeeze. "You're welcome and you're forgiven." He released her far too soon for her liking, but kept his body close to hers as they continued into town. The village was alight with lanterns strung across rooftops, showcasing the tapestry of streamers and ribbons in dark autumn colors. Guests and townsfolk alike lingered over market stalls and small street performances, jostling easily for what little space there on the wide streets as all of Hastom prepared for the beginning of their annual celebration of fall.

"I know I can be a right pain in the arse these days…"

"You're seven months pregnant, you're entitled to be."

She smirked to herself before she sobered at her next thought. "And…and I know it's been painful and frustrating, not hearing anything new from Ron, but-"

"I don't want to talk about him right now," Harry cut her off. He reached down and twined his fingers through hers. "I just want to go and have a nice dinner with you and my friends. My real friends. The ones who accept me for what I am and the choices I've made."

"Hermione will get through to him, she always does in the end," she said. She needed to hear it out loud as much as Harry did.

"Not always," Harry replied with a small smile.

"What do you mean?"

He studied her for a moment, weighing whether or not to tell her, before continuing, "Marriage. I mean, she can't get him to let up on proposing marriage. You see, Hermione wants to wait until she's about thirty or so to get married. That way she and whomever she's roped into her insanity can be perfectly settled in their careers and whatnot before settling down."

Ginny crinkled her nose in confusion. "Thirty? That's just so…old. If I were going to get married, I don't think I could ever wait that long."

"Me neither. But, um, anyways Ron knows all this and he still proposes to her all the time. It's kind of like this weird joke between them. I've been in the room a couple of times when he's done it." Harry's smile brightened as he stared at something in the distance, his eyes in the past. "He'll make this endless sappy speech about eternal love and devotion at the most inopportune times, like during breakfast or right before Hermione has to appear before the Wizengamot; once he even had a song written, which we all agreed to never repeat the lyrics to. Then he pulls out something small from his pocket, like a tack or a piece of candy, and he presents that to her for a ring. And when he's all done with his part, Hermione will burst into these phony tears and pretend to swoon before she tragically admits that her heart is just not ready to accept his love." Harry laughed to himself. "I don't think they tell anyone else in the family for fear of it getting back to your mum. Can you imagine the wrath they'd incur from her if she knew what a 'mockery' they were making of an engagement?"

Ginny giggled as she pictured the look on her mother's face if Molly Weasley were ever to witness such a thing. "What happens next?"

"Huh?"

"After Hermione says no, what happens next?"

"Well they, uh, they usually just kiss and go about the rest of their day. Like nothing's happened. I know it sounds weird, but it's just sort of like the way your dad brings home a new dishrag for your mum every Friday evening or how Fleur always eats a few bites of rare steak with Bill so he doesn't feel out of place in a restaurant. Proposing and rejecting the proposal is just how Ron and Hermione say, 'I love you' to each other."

Ginny could only shake her head. "That's just bizarre, even for them. And that's saying something."

"I think lately, Ron's meant it more as a serious thing than as a joke," Harry admitted, almost to himself. "When we'd have time during the day before…you know, he'd pull out this catalog from his desk and thumb through it, in his own world. The one time I was able to sneak a look at it, I saw that it was from a small jeweler in Diagon Alley. The ring section."

As furious with her brother as she was for his behavior as of late, a small part of Ginny couldn't help but flutter at the thought of him finally marrying the woman he loved. Though he was nothing more than a nuisance to her presently, even she could admit that for all he had sacrificed and suffered throughout the war, Ronald Weasley was entitled to a happy life for the rest of his years.

Hopefully, she and Harry could both be a part of those years with him.

Though with almost another month of stony silence between them, her hope was dwindling day by day.

Ginny curled her arm through Harry's and leaned her head on his shoulder as they approached Bart and Nell's little cottage. Harry pulled open the small front gate for them. "I think," she said when they reached the front door, "that we should just put Ron and Hermione out of our minds for the night and enjoy the evening. After all," she ribbed him in the stomach, "it is the start of the Fall Festival."

"That it is," he agreed. He started to knock on the door but before he could, it opened and Bart stuck his head in between the door and the jam.

"This was **not** my idea!" he hissed at the pair. "This was my wife's, okay? Not mine, hers. She is the meddler and I am just the guy who enables her. Got it?"

Harry immediately tensed. "What has that woman done now?"

_Oh no_, Ginny thought, keeping herself melded to Harry's side. _Iris, Mummy is going to try her very best not to start swearing at Auntie Nell, but in case one slips, you're not allowed to repeat it once you can speak. Understand?_ The baby jabbed at her ribs, hopefully in agreement. _Good girl._

Bart began to answer until Nell's voice called out from upstairs, "Bart? Are they here? I was just about to Floo their house."

"Yeah, they just got here, babe! Perfect timing, you're really incredible, have I told you that?" Bart floundered, apologizing to his friends with his eyes. "Plus she's kept her figure, isn't that amazing, Harry, my good friend? Come on in, you two." Opening the door wider, he hissed, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Wife's idea. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We'll all get through it together. I'm sorry." Harry only rolled his eyes and shoved the wrapped box in Bart's hands. "Thank you and did I mention that I'm sorry?"

Holding her breath, Ginny edged into the small living room with Harry, prepared for anything to spring out in front of them: Banshees, Doxies, Professor McGonagall in polka-dotted footed pajamas. Her mind was at red alert. Nothing would surprise her. Beside her, she could feel Harry's side tense.

Instead of something frightening or off-putting, all she and Harry found was Sapien Stellner sitting with his leg crossed on the sofa, giving them both a warm smile in greeting as he stood. "Good evening to you both, Citizen Potter and Prospect Weasley. I trust the evening finds you in good spirits."

It had been some time since Ginny had had the chance to speak with the elusive head of the Council. Between her work at the pub, coaching the Quidditch team with Harry, and the everyday minutia of her life in general, there hadn't been time lately for conversation with the village elder, only a friendly nod hello once in a while.

"Hello, sir," Ginny said formally, still on guard. What kind of news could her friends have if they thought it required the presence of Sapien to smooth it over? She looked to Bart for answers but the man was working hard to avoid all eye contact with her, rolling the gift back and forth in his hands.

"What's going on?" Harry asked without preamble. He stepped away from Ginny to shake Sapien's hand. She wanted to pull him back to her side and keep him there.

"Perhaps we should all sit down before we begin our discussion," Sapien tried as he released Harry's hand.

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Ginny offered hers first. "No, thank you. We'd like to know what's going on here. We were told," she glanced at Bart accusingly, "that we'd be having supper with our friends, not being blindsided by whatever you have to say here…" She trailed off as an idea took shape in her mind and she wanted to drag Harry back to her when she saw what it was.

_I did something wrong_, Ginny thought in horror. _Somehow, I broke one of their rules and now they won't let me stay in Hastom. I have to leave my life…my home…Harry…_

Without hesitation, she lurched forward and grasped Harry's hand tightly in hers.

Sapien looked down at their linked hands and quirked his lips in surprise. "My presence here is not one of punishment or judgment. I am here tonight only to wish Citizen Nixon a happy birthday and to serve as an intermediary if one is called for, not to ask anyone to leave our borders," he assured her voiceless thoughts. Ginny frowned in confusion before she sighed in relief; with his empathetic abilities, of course Sapien would know instantly what she had feared and would know how to alleviate it. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. So sound was her relief that she almost missed Sapien's next words. "As you know, the time has come for our annual Fall Festival. In a village that prides itself on its capacity to celebrate, this festival is, if I do say so myself, our crowning jewel. Days and days of reveling and merriment to give thanks for all that the warmth of spring, summer, and fall have provided us. This celebration is also a time of growth and welcoming in our community; when our strict rules regarding those who come into Hastom relax ever so slightly. Citizens are allowed to bring in more visitors than we would normally permit, provided that those same citizens bear more responsibility for their guests."

"How does this have anything to do with us?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps," Sapien nodded towards Bart, who for once looked quite unhappy to be the center of attention, "Citizen Nixon could better answer that question."

Bart smiled ruefully and sauntered slowly towards the staircase, hands in pocket, taking his sweet time. "Okay then. Thank you for that typically wordy and cerebral explanation, Councilman Stellner. In layman's terms, there's going to be a lot more people in town this week and, um, we—that is my wife and myself have taken some of these guests into our home. I mean, we're…we've invited some people to Hastom and," Bart lowered his voice and glanced quickly above his head, "by 'we' I mean my lovely wife to-"

"Hey!" Ginny heard Nell shout angrily from the top of the stairs. "I heard that!"

Cheeks aflame, Bart winced as he called back, "Did you also hear me before tell Harry how tight and right you've that kept that body, babe? Because if you didn't, you have and if you did, it just needed to be said again! Anyhoot," he turned back to the group at large, "back to my point, we…we have guests with us here this week..." He paused again, searching for the words. Ginny traded a look of apprehension with Harry. Bart being at a loss for words was never a good sign. Finally, Bart gave up and looked to Sapien for guidance. The white-haired man nodded and addressed Harry and Ginny once more.

"These particular guests," Sapien explained, "you both know. Healer Nixon," he called up the stairs, "I believe that is your cue." Soft footsteps soon followed down the stairs. More than one pair. Nell appeared first at the bottom, tugging her husband off to the side to allow their guests room to enter. The mysterious duo stopped about halfway down for a moment so Ginny could see only their feet.

_I know those shoes_, she thought idly of the thin, strappy black heels. _They're just like the pair I bought last year for Her-_

Unconsciously, Ginny felt herself take a step back as she gasped quietly in shock. Beside her, she heard Harry stop breathing as he watched Ron and Hermione descend the stairs to stand in front of them; Hermione in a tasteful long sleeved ivory sweater and dinner slacks with happy tears shining in her eyes and Ron in a proper suit coat and pressed jeans, his mouth in a straight line as he took in the sight of his best friend and his younger sister. His deep brow furrowed when his eyes noticed how tightly wound together Harry and Ginny's hands were. Though it made her heart tremble to do so, she released Harry from her grip and Ron's gaze relented.

Unable to contain herself, Hermione shot forward and took both Harry and Ginny in her arms. "It's so good to see you," she cried against them. "You have no idea how much I've…" She sighed happily and tugged them even closer.

Around Hermione's mass of curls, Ginny saw that her brother had not moved an inch, neither from the step or in his stiff posture. There was no happiness on his face or anger. There was nothing.

"H-How are you…?" Harry pulled away from Hermione's hug, looking bewilderedly around the room before he settled back on the face of one of his oldest friends, slowly smiling until he was beaming at her.

"Um, your friends," Hermione explained, smiling back at Nell and Bart in the corner. "I got this strange owl right before we left for Canada and it had a letter from a woman named Nell Nixon who claimed to know you, to be a friend of yours. There was so much about you she knew in that letter that I didn't doubt her to be truthful. She said she wanted us to meet in person and after running a standard background check on her through the Ministry, we met at the Leaky for lunch. She…she told me she thought…" Hermione sniffed and pulled Harry in for another squeeze. "I can't believe any of this. I can't believe we're all here!"

Nell picked up the story. "I told her that I had seen with my own eyes how much this estrangement was effecting you and Ginny and that I thought I knew a way to help you all work through everything. If they were open to it, we could have Ron and Hermione come to Hastom as guests of ours and they could see for themselves what this place truly is and what your life here is like." She smiled warmly at Ron, who nodded in return. "It took a little bit of convincing on my part over the last couple of weeks, but I got Hermione on board with the plan and, um, well-"

"I told Ron if he ever truly wanted to see a ring on my finger, he'd come here with me," Ginny heard Hermione whisper into Harry's ear. Smiling over Harry's shoulder, Hermione slowly released him and moved over to Ginny, raking her eyes over Ginny's swollen form. "You…you look…" Hermione trailed off again, shaking her head in amazement.

"Enormous," Ginny supplied as she hugged Hermione again. "Gigantic. Fit to burst. Viewable from space. Take your pick."

"I was going to say stunning, actually. But yours work too."

The laughter died in Ginny's throat as she watched Ron walk down from the stairs into the living room. He stopped a few feet away from Harry and waited. With bated breath, Hermione and Ginny untangled themselves from each other, each knowing how much was riding on this exchange. It was not melodramatic to say that both their futures very well depended on what was said here between the two men. Harry hesitated, weighing his choices carefully before he looked over to catch Ginny's eye, silently begging for one thing:

"Should I do this?"

_He's asking me what to do? Why? I'm the one that caused this whole mess to begin with. _Pushing aside her own confusion, she nodded in encouragement for him to meet his oldest friend halfway. The entire room gazed at the pair silently, giving them a layer of space yet unable to look away to give them privacy that would make the encounter easier.

Or perhaps easier to leave unresolved.

"Hey," Ron said quietly when Harry was finally in front of him.

"Hi," Harry replied. The two men sized each other up as time moved sluggishly around them. Ginny heard Hermione bristle in annoyance next to her.

"Morgana help me, it's the bloody fourth year all over again," she said under her breath.

Perhaps sensing his girlfriend's irritation, Ron cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Harry's as he began to speak. "I, uh, I owe you a…an apology," he said awkwardly. "For what happened in the office a few weeks ago." He looked down at his feet. "For, you know, trying t-to curse you." Ron, thankfully, looked decidedly abashed as he picked an imaginary piece of lint off a table lamp. "It was uncalled for and no matter what I was feeling at the time I had no right to do something that…that unforgivable."

"No," Harry agreed, "you didn't."

"I just…look, Harry, I know I was completely barmy to do what I did. I should probably be locked up in a cell right now. But can you at least admit that what I heard before I did it, what **you** told me, it was absolutely the last thing in the world I ever imagined I'd hear?"

"Yeah, I can. That still doesn't excuse what you did, though."

"I never said that it should, I'm only trying to make you understand what was running through my head." Ron's face fell. "I had just found out my best mate had been lying to me for more than three years. Are you saying I should have been able to keep my head on straight?"

"Your best mate lied to you because the only thing he ever heard from you about his new home was what a breeding ground for the entire world's evils it is," Harry countered.

"Because that's what I had been told my entire life."

"Well, I wasn't. I came here and saw with my own eyes how good this place is, how honorable the people are who live here. Nothing exists here but peace, which I could have let you see for yourself if I ever thought you were open to it."

"So you didn't trust me enough to show me this part of your life?" Ron asked, his voice hardening. "That's what you're telling me?"

Harry tried his best to answer, but could only shrug in defeat. "I didn't trust," he said slowly, "that I would be able to survive if I lost you, Ron, or Hermione. I couldn't let myself risk it. Not after I had just lost…" He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Away from Harry's scrutiny, Ron shot a quick look of condemnation at his sister.

Ginny didn't need any of Sapien's extraordinary abilities to understand what Ron was feeling or thinking. In his mind, this entire debacle, from Harry's decision to move to Hastom right up to this little standoff in Bart and Nell's living room, was entirely Ginny's doing. She would have been furious with him if a part of her didn't agree with him. And if the majority of Ron's rage was directed at her, that at least meant that there was hope he and Harry would be able to reconcile their differences and keep their friendship intact. That was something.

If all Ginny had to give up to let Harry have that was another brother, then…well, eventually she'd find a way to live with it.

"Look," Hermione finally said, walking to stand beside Harry and Ron, "I think you both can agree that mistakes were made over the years, by each of you. Ron, I know that finding out Harry's been living in Hastom all this time was a shock, but he is your best friend and you owed him more than firing off the first curse that came to you. And Harry, maybe you thought you were doing it for the right reasons, but you still spent years to lying to Ron and to me every day." The two men nodded solemnly at Hermione's analysis. "There's no going back to undo what's been done. All that's left is starting fresh from here on in with a bit more trust on everyone's part. Agreed?"

"Yeah," Ron told her before he turned back to Harry. "I'm sorry, mate. I truly am." He held out his hand in apology. "Can you forgive me for being such an arsehole?"

Amazingly, Harry smiled just a little as he took Ron's hand. "Our history suggests that, yes, I can." Ron chuckled sheepishly and nodded. "But only if you'll do the same for me," Harry added. "I'm sorry, too." Ron pulled him by the arm into a deep hug that Hermione joined after a moment and Ginny bowed her chin down in thanks.

_Fred, I'm not sure if you had a hand in getting Ron squared away or if it was all Hermione's doing_, she thought,_ but if you did, thank you._

She felt an arm brush her side and looked over to see Sapien standing beside her.

"Your brother still loves you very much, Prospect Weasley," he told her quietly as they watched Nell and Bart join the trio as their hug disbanded. "Do not doubt that."

"Maybe he does. But he hates me a little bit, too. Doesn't he?"

"He is angry and frustrated. That is not the same as hate."

"Sure feels like it on this end of things." Harry's eyes were lit with pleasure as his two worlds collided together, watching his best friends finally all begin to exchange pleasantries in his company. He glanced over at Ginny and grinned with the ease of the child. It occurred to her then that for the first time in far too long Harry truly had everything he wanted in life: All his best friends around him, living in a place that gave him peace; a godson that he treasured; work that fulfilled his need to help those around, and most of all, a future completely unencumbered by darkness. The sun was finally shining brightest on Harry James Potter.

At the thought of something shining, Ginny's mind suddenly flashed back to Harry's study. Probably still sitting in his desk drawer was the persem diamond that had been intended for Meredith. It made Ginny's heart spasm with guilt.

No, she was wrong. Harry didn't have everything he wanted.

"Join your friends," Sapien told her suddenly. "I am quite certain they want you a part of their group. Especially Citizen Potter."

Fixing a smile to her lips, she followed Sapien's advice and stood next to Nell on the fringe, Sapien behind her.

With everyone gathered around him, Bart clapped his hands to get everyone's attention amidst the various conversations going on. "I think now is a perfect time for supper. Everyone follow me to the backyard. We've got plenty of food and Warming Charms all set up for my wife's," he pressed a smacking kiss to Nell's neck, "third annual twenty-second birthday dinner!" He ducked her half-hearted slap as he led them all outside to the cozy yard.

A large picnic table was set, laden with steaming plates of chicken, roast beef, and three different preparations of potatoes as well as greens and other vegetables. Two bottles of elderflower wine and pumpkin juice sat on either side of the decorative centerpiece arranged with leaves and flowers. As promised, the Warming Charms cast around the borders of the yard kept the chill of the evening air from disturbing them as they all began to take their seats on the benches.

Trying to figure out the best way to ease her bulky frame down onto the corner spot without losing her balance, Ginny was surprised to feel a familiar hand on her lower back and arm. Without a word between them, Harry helped her onto the bench before taking the seat beside her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"My pleasure," he replied with a smile as he poured pumpkin juice into her cup. It normally would have made her joyful to see him so attentive to her, if not for the heat she could feel coming across the other side of the table from Ron's stare that Harry seemed oblivious to in his newfound state of glee. She fidgeted against it and tried her best to ignore her brother as Nell's birthday celebration got underway.

It was a mix of old and new, past and present at the table. Older stories of eleven year-olds fighting off trolls in bathrooms to newer ones of a local healer struck dumb by a group of different eleven year-olds brewing potions to deliberately give themselves horse tails as a fashion statement. Hermione spoke of her and Ron's recent world travels while Nell offered her own anecdotes about living all over Asia for a year as part of her training in herbal remedies. Ron stayed closer to Sapien during the meal, peppering him with (from what Ginny could hear from her end) questions about Hastom and its history. Sometimes the answers brought a small smile to Ron's face while others muted him for a short time. Harry joined in wherever he felt like it; making Hermione groan when he merrily described the effects a stray cat hair had had on a batch of Polyjuice Potion or arguing with Bart over the merits of various Auror practices. Sapien retired for the evening after the cake was cut, but the rest of them stayed out so late that the Warming Charms needed to be recast. Ginny smiled and laughed over her meal, but was perfectly content to stay silent and watch those she loved be happy for much of the night, which was made truly glorious after Ron and Hermione had presented Nell with a beautiful set of crystal goblets for a birthday present. Hermione then handed Bart a rectangular wrapped box of his own.

"You guys didn't have to do this. This day's for my wife, not me," he told them even as his fingers ripped the paper off.

"Well, we figured with all you've done for Harry these years, we owed you something," Hermione said. "It was actually Ron's idea. I told him how Nell mentioned you were a fan of Muggle comic books and it turns out he had a whole pile of them from when he was a boy."

"My dad went mental for anything not magical," Ron supplied. "Always brought this stuff home from work that had been seized and uncharmed that none of us had any use for. He had stacks of those comic books in the broom shed and I nicked a bunch because I thought the pictures looked cool, even if they couldn't move. I figured it was time to give one to someone who could really appreciate it."

Bart grinned as he finally got rid of the paper and took the top off the box. "Really, this is awesome of you, but you really didn't ha…" Bart's mouth stopped moving midway through the word and refused to close as his eyes bulged until they were practically coming out of their sockets as the rest of the table tried to get a peek at what was flummoxing him so.

"I'm sorry it's not newer," Ron apologized immediately. "Dad hadn't gotten any for a while so all I had were some really old ones before I was even born. It's the very first one in the series and it's still in pretty good shape, at least, so if you don't know the story it's a good place to start." Bart whimpered pitifully and the hands gripping the box started shaking. "I thumbed through it a few times and it's not that bad. It's about this bloke that gets bitten by a spider and-"

Slowly, Bart stood and laid his gift box precisely on the table, taking great care to recover it and position it away from the edge. When he was done, Ginny watched in shock as he marched over to Ron and threw his arms around him, Ron's head tucked under his chin, and proceeded to kiss the top of Ron's ginger hair.

Ron looked a strange mixture of scared and sick. "What's happening now?" he asked the table as Bart began rocking them back and forth.

Nell, having a general idea of what had just occurred, couldn't hide her smirk. "My husband is saying thank you," she said around a giggle.

"No!" Bart cried out. "You can't….there are no…I don't know…" Suddenly, an idea occurred to him and his eyes lit up. Releasing Ron (who took in a deep breath of fresh air) Bart carefully picked up his new/old comic book and looked down at his wife. "Honey, where do we keep the deed to the house?" Before Nell could answer, Bart waved her off. "Never mind, I think I know!" He raced back into the house, letting out a shriek of delight.

Nell simply shook her head. "All right then, I'm definitely not having sex tonight," she informed the table at large. The entire group groaned and laughed together. Ginny felt the baby start hiccupping and she giggled

"Stop that now," she said out loud to Iris. "I know Uncle Bart is a funny man but that's no reason to take it out your sillies on me."

"She giving you trouble?" Harry asked her. She nodded and Harry leaned his head a little closer to her belly. "Enough of that, Snitch. Be nice to your mum or no Quidditch over the wireless for you tomorrow tonight." Ginny was stunned; in private, when they were alone, Harry was never shy about interacting with the baby. Around people, on the other hand…that was something else entirely. Apparently not to Harry, though. He stood up and stretched. "Mind if I use the loo, Nell?"

"Um, sure," she said slowly. Ginny, her cheeks flaming, forced herself not to look away from her friends as Harry walked into the house. "You know, Hermione, my mother kept some of the old town records and we have some copies here. I, uh, know you mentioned wanting to look at them before. Would you like to see them? Right now?"

"Oh," Hermione said her eyes wide. "Oh! Yes, of course. The…the town records. Yes, I'd very much like to look at those at this very moment." The two women stood together and quickly walked into the house, Nell waving her wand behind her to clear the mess from the table and shut the door, leaving the two Weasleys alone.

Ginny looked towards her brother at the other end of the table, miles away from her. To comfort herself from the silence of her brother, she started rubbing her belly, humming quietly and cursing herself for making such meddling friends.

_I made the first move. I wrote the letter_, she thought stubbornly. _It's his turn to talk if he has something to say._

It turns out he did.

"Do you really think there's some sort of document she wants 'Mione to see?" Ron asked, staring straight ahead. "Or was it just an excuse to get us all by ourselves?"

"Probably a bit of both."

He nodded and took a long sip of his wine. "I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to say right now," he murmured. "One part of me is saying that you're my baby sister and the other part is screaming that you're also the person who put my best friend through the fires of hell and seems bent on doing it all over again."

"What does that mean exactly?" Ginny spat out.

"You know what it means!" Ron finally turned in his seat to face her. "What in the name of Gandalf do you think you're doing here with Harry? Once wasn't enough, you want to drag his heart through the ringer again? Sequel's never as good as the original, Gin, you know that. Why waste your time?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and continued caressing her belly in hopes of keeping her calm. "That is **not** what is happening, Ronald. Harry and I are friends, that's all there is and that's all I w-want. And for your information, I was never trying to hurt him when I broke things off-"

"Well, that's just great. You still managed to do a bang up job of it, regardless!"

"Where is all this coming from? Where was all of this outrage about, I don't know, four years ago? When I actually ended the relationship? Where was all of this self-righteous, Harry-first attitude of yours back then?"

"It was kept clamped down as tight as I could keep it because I didn't want to watch my mother's heart break over her children fighting so soon after it put itself back together from losing a son!" Ron pushed away from the table and paced around the yard. "I know how hard that is for you to understand, caring about whether or not I hurt my parents, but still…"

Ginny saw nothing except red. Hefting herself up, she caught up to Ron and shoved her hands into his chest, making him stumble into a hedge. "How dare you? You have no clue as to what I think or feel, Ron Weasley! You have no idea why I made the choices I made!" She huffed and backed away from him. "Never mind the fact that they were **my **choices to make, not yours and-"

Ron reached forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. "Don't you get it?" He screamed into her face. "You ruined it! You ruined everything!"

She struggled to break free of his firm grasp. "What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to marry him!" Ron cried. Ginny's heart dropped and she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Ron sounded as if he couldn't either. "You were supposed to marry Harry and have a life together and be right by me and 'Mione while you did it! You weren't supposed to run off all over the world, keeping yourself hidden away for months at a time while he vanished right in front of our eyes! You weren't supposed to end up pregnant by some miserable cockstain you won't even name while Harry dated someone so…so…blonde and not you! I was supposed to…to be there for…" His grip on Ginny slacked and he leaned his forehead down to press wearily against hers. "You were both supposed to have nothing but an easy time of it after Voldermort was done and gone. After everything you went through in that Chamber and after…it wasn't supposed to be like this for you."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she laid her head on his shoulder. "I know," she admitted past her sobs.

"It's bad enough I couldn't save you from a goddamn diary," he continued, clutching his arms around her back as best he could. Ginny started to protest, but Ron cut her off. "Again, when it really counted, I couldn't save you from yourself. I couldn't protect you from hurting yourself and the rest of us."

"I never meant to. I swear on Fred's grave that I thought what I did was the right thing."

"I know," he whispered, keeping her close, "but you did hurt us, Gin. Whatever you thought, this is still the end result. A lot of pain and a lot of what-ifs for a lot of people that you love."

"H-How do I make it right? For you and me? How do we get past all this?"

_Is it even possible?_

Ron didn't answer for some time and Ginny clung to him even tighter, afraid if he let go she'd lose him forever.

"Do you remember," he said into her hair, "that autographed dragonskin glove you got from Araloff Dillengard at the World Cup in Japan?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe…I don't know maybe if you were feeling generous with it, I might be-OW!" He pulled back from the wallop she had just packed into her shoulder before bursting into laughter and easing the thick layer of tension that had been weighing them down all evening. Ginny joined him, making her way back to sit at the picnic table, motioning for him to follow.

"You're a prat, Ron," she told him, wiping at her tears. He offered her a napkin and she gratefully took it.

"I know."

"Truly, though, please tell me what I have to do to make this right."

He thought for a moment. "Give me the name of the bastard that did that," he pointed to her stomach, "to you so me and our brothers can go kill him?"

She slapped his shoulder again. "Be serious, Ron."

"I am serious. Why won't you tell us?"

"Because he won't be involved so it does no good to anyone to speak of him, especially your niece." She took his hand and laid it on her belly. He rubbed it gently, smiling when he felt the baby poking in reply. "Ron please, name it and I'll do it. Just give me an answer."

He took his hand away and stared right at her. "You're already doing it."

"What?"

"Making Harry happy again." He smiled wider and leaned back on his elbows against the tables, looking up into the deep night's sky. "It's been entirely too long since I've seen him smile like he did tonight, just sitting next to you and talking to your kid. Hopefully you've learned your lesson this time and you won't-"

"Harry and I are not together," she said firmly, standing. She cradled her belly with one hand and offered the other to him. "We're friends, good friends, and I promise you that I won't do anything to jeopardize that. Come on, it's late. Let's go back inside and say goodnight before Bart comes out to offer you one of his kidneys."

Ron's smile faded a bit as he got up without Ginny's help. "Friends?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "Could've fooled me. Don't muck it up again," he called back in warning as he walked into the house, leaving her alone in the yard.

Friends. Why was it so hard for people to understand that's all she and Harry were to each other now?

But more importantly, why was it getting so hard to understand herself?


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Notes: Thank you to a wonderful group of betas who helped make this chapter so cohesive. There's a lot to get through in here, so I'll just say that the lyrics in this chapter do not belong to me. They are from **_**The Rocky Horror Picture Show**_ and **belong to Richard O'Brien. Please read, rejoice, and review!**

_Chaos would be swirling all around her soon. There was no doubt of that. Ginny had seen enough Firsts of September to know that no matter how tranquil and peaceful the morning started, that no matter how organized they were from the night before or how many people were coming by to help get them into London on time, come eight o'clock, everything would fall to pieces around them. _

_Such was life._

_The boys' school trunks were waiting by the front door, neatly stacked and filled to the brim with robes, books, and little mementos from home; Nero, the snow owl that had been their eleventh birthday present, was (for once) patiently chirping in his cage; and there was a small sack of treats for the train ride. Everything was in perfect order, just waiting for her two black-haired terrors to accidentally destroy it in their haste to get to King's Cross Station._

_Ginny shook her head with a smile as she knocked on her daughter's door. Why would time never slow down? She could so clearly remember the feel of Finnick and Gavin tucked into the crook of each arm, how utterly different it had been nursing them both at the same time; and now, what seemed like only a few days later, she was putting her twins, her babies, on the train for Hogwarts._

_Perhaps Luna was right. Maybe someone should try to invent a cage for time._

"_Lamb?" she called quietly. "Are you awake yet?"_

"_No," a muffled voice replied after a moment. Ginny rolled her eyes and opened the door, turning on the lamp as she did. Posters of the popular female Wizarding musical duo, Maleficent on Sundays, smiled and winked back at her from the soft teal walls. Unlike the boys' room, this one's floor was mercifully clear of clothes and debris; the biggest mess was a small collection of carefully tended purple flowers on both window sills. She walked over to the bed and moved the various Charms textbooks to the night table before sitting gently near the lump beneath the bedcovers that was her fourteen year-old daughter._

_Ginny leaned forward and pressed a kiss to where she imagined the girl's head to be. "Iris Molly Potter," she said, "it's almost seven and everyone will be here soon. You told me last night you wanted to make a big breakfast for the whole family. Time to get up."_

"_Changed my mind," Iris retorted through the blankets. "You lot can manage on your own for the day."_

"_Lamb…"_

"_Actually, I'd love to see that, the boys making their own meal for a change. Do you think Gavin even knows how to crack an egg? Or that Icky-Finnicky could get cereal into a bowl all by himself?" _

_Ginny peeled back the covers to reveal her daughter's head of lustrous red hair. Iris kept her back to Ginny as her mother gently smoothed the locks down. _

"_I promise I won't tell anyone how much you'll miss them both," Ginny told the girl, "if you come downstairs and help me see them off properly."_

_Iris didn't move. She simply snuggled back deeper into her mother's touch. "It's not that I'll miss them all that much."_

"_Of course."_

"_I mean, sure they can be fun at times. Like when Finn found Dad's wand and managed to Transfigure all his toy blocks into mice."_

"_Yes, it was real fun for you kids. You weren't the ones finding mouse droppings all over the house for the next six months."_

"_That was nothing compared to their sixth birthday party," Iris laughed softly. "Have you ever seen a birthday cake do…do that?"_

"_No. I've also never seen your Uncle Ron that terrified of food. The man still won't put frosting on anything to this day."_

_Iris's laughter petered out and she sighed, fingering a small chip of paint of the wall in front of her. "What about when Gavin was learning how to ride a real broom? Remember how scared he was to get on at first, even though he carried the stupid thing with him everywhere he went?" _

"_What I remember," Ginny said, "is that the only way we could get him on it was to have his big sister on the broom holding him tight because he knew that nothing bad would happen to him with Lamb there to take care of him." She pretended not to notice the tiny hitch in her daughter's breath._

"_I just…I don't like it when things change," the girl admitted. "Everything is wonderful now and we're all so happy. Why does it have to ever be anything other than that?"_

"_That's what life is, sweetheart. It changes and we change along with it. I'm not the same person I was when you were born and that's good because if I was, I wouldn't be as happy as I am here today, with you and your brothers and your dad." Ginny pressed a small kiss into her daughter's hair, the hair Iris had inherited from her. "We grow older and wiser and with luck, that wisdom brings us more happiness tomorrow than we had yesterday." The two women sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the rhythmic stroking of Iris's hair through Ginny's fingertips until the girl spoke again._

"_Can I ask you something?"_

"_Certainly."_

"_Were you and Dad…disappointed that I stayed here at home?" Iris asked the wall. "That I didn't want to go to Hogwarts?"_

"_Lamb, why would you ever think that?"_

"_Ever since the twins' letters came in June, you and Dad have both been telling them how wonderful school was and all the fun they'd have there and all the adventures __**you**__ had there. I mean, that's where Dad fell in love with you-"_

"_Yes, and he took his sweet time doing it, thank you very much._

_Iris didn't giggle at the old joke like she normally did. "There's not any part of you that wishes I had been sorted into Gryffindor or was studying creatures with Hagrid?"_

"_First of all," Ginny began, "I would never want anyone to study creatures with Hagrid. He's a dear, dear man to me and your father, but some of his lessons can be a bit…scarring and I don't just mean psychologically. And as for being sorted into Gryffindor, no, I would not want that at all."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because the Iris Potter I love more than my own life would never have wanted to go off to study all sorts of different subjects at a school hundreds of miles away from home. If she had, she would be someone else entirely. You're a great deal like your Aunt Nell in that way. You knew, just like she did, what your purpose in life was and that was healing. Sophie says that you are a brilliant student with an amazing gift and you will be a great service to Hastom or anywhere else in the world when you finally get your license."_

"_What about you, Mum? What's your purpose?"_

"_You. You and the rest of our entire barmy family. I would not trade a single second I have spent with any of you for all the Galleons in Gringotts. I love you so much, Lamb."_

"_I love you too, Mum." Iris turned over and smiled up at Ginny, the joy spreading from her lips all the way up to her eyes._

_Her father's eyes—Harry's eyes—shining with love towards Ginny._

_How was that possible? Unconsciously, Ginny sucked in a breath and leaned away from her daughter as she took in the perfect almond shape and the precise shade of green that Lily Potter had given her son so many years ago. Now it seemed that Harry had kept that trait alive and well as it blinked up at her sleepily against the light._

_But how could he have…? Iris wasn't…This made no…_

_What was happening?_

_A knock on the door startled her and the voice on the other side absolutely shattered her._

"_Mum? Iris?" the deep voice of a grown man called out to them. "Sophie and I are here with the kids. Dad says that breakfast isn't ready yet. You want to get on with that, Lamb? You know what your darling nieces and nephews are like when they haven't got a plate full of bangers in front of them first thing in the morning."_

_Iris ignored her mother's incapacitating shock to climb out of bed, huffing to herself as she walked into her adjoining bathroom. "Fine, I'm coming. Heaven forbid you actually feed your own children, James."_

_Ginny's breath released and lodged itself in between her heart and her throat._

_James? _

_Hearing footsteps echoing away down the hallway, Ginny shot off the bed and wrenched the bedroom door open, searching. All she could see down the hall near the stairs was a tall man with a head of dark red hair, just like Ginny, and as he turned to face her…_

* * *

><p>Gasping, Ginny sat straight up in bed. Her hands immediately went to her belly as the adrenaline coursed through her. She was terrified, down to the nails of her toes, and she had no idea why. Taking a calming breath, she tried to trace through the hazy vestiges of her subconscious to find the cause of such fear, only to find nothing. No images or sounds to go on. Just a sense that something deeply traumatic had disturbed her peaceful sleep.<p>

_It was a dream_, she thought to herself as the baby squirmed beneath her skin. _Whatever it was, it was nothing more than a dream. We're both fine, right sweetheart?_

A strong kick seemed to be the baby telling her, "Right, Mummy. We're great."

_That's my girl._

Standing on wobbly legs, Ginny got dressed for the day, still trying to decipher what it was exactly that was troubling her so about her dream. She just couldn't put a finger on it. Maybe it had something to do with her family. After all, last night with Ron at Nell's birthday party had been…emotional, to say the least. It wouldn't surprise her at all if there was some residual backlash from it that had crept into her dreams. On the other hand, they had ended things in such a good place, with Ron telling Ginny how good it was to see her and Harry…together.

Not that they were together, in the sense her brother saw them in. She and Harry just lived in the same house together, ate most of their meals together, reveled in the every kick and twitch from the baby together, and spent a good portion of the day together.

Really, why would Ron ever think that-

_Because those are probably the things that he does with Hermione, save for the baby. Same with Bart and Nell, Bill and Fleur, Mum and Dad, and a host of other couples. When something looks like a Kneazle, sounds like a Kneazle, and acts like a Kneazle, chances are that it's a Kn-_

"Stop it," Ginny commanded herself before her thoughts could take her down a path she simply didn't have the energy for this morning. Not with the festival to attend today. Bart and Nell had a full day of activities planned for her, Ron, and Hermione that left no room for pondering the ever-complicating state of her relationship with Harry.

Well, complicated to **them**. Everyone else in their lives seemed to think it was fairly straightforward.

Nosy meddlers.

Feeling herself starting to slide down into a bit of a funk, she snapped out of it by sliding her feet into a pair of comfortable moccasins, smiling a little as she felt the effects of the magical support that Harry had somehow managed to add to her shoes at some point in the night. She supposed if he really did want to take care of her and keep her numerous pregnancy complaints to a minimum, who was she to stop him? Sweet man and crafty too, seeing as he waited until she was already asleep before modifying her shoes, knowing he could simply circumvent her arguments by waiting until she was unconscious.

She wondered how long he had stayed in the room with her, if he had lingered for a moment or two to watch her sleep. He had told her once when they were…well, many years ago that watching her sleep was one of the things that brought him the most peace.

Though really, how much peace could one attain when they were looking at an ex-girlfriend, carrying the child of another-

"Ouch!" Ginny cried out. The baby jabbed her swiftly in the gut, almost making her double over with the intensity of the sharpness from the little feet or fists pounding into her. It died down as quickly as it began, but Ginny sat perfectly still on her bed for a few moments, listening intently to see if her body was trying to tell her something was wrong. There was nothing, no pain and no more kicking.

_What was it that riled you up so much, sweetheart_? Ginny thought as she used the end table to stand up. Holding her stomach with one hand, she made her way down the stairs. _She must be excited about the festival, that's all._

A gaggle of happy voices greeted her from the kitchen. Harry and their four friends were sitting together at the table. Such an adjustment—a joyful one—to make, seeing Ron and Hermione in Hastom; her old life and new life merging together more seamlessly than Ginny could have ever hoped.

So strange. She wasn't used to things being so simple in her life.

It didn't feel all that bad, to be honest.

"Morning," she said to the group from the doorway. For the first time, she noticed the time on the kitchen clock and grimaced. "Why on Earth did you let me sleep so late?"

"Healer's orders," Nell replied while she buttered a slice of toast. "You had quite a night and you needed rest. Besides, nothing starts at the festival until midday so you haven't missed a thing. Just my husband caressing a pumpkin all morning."

Ginny smirked, but when she sat down next to Bart she found he was, indeed, caressing a large orange pumpkin in his lap. "Why are you…?" she asked him, a little hesitant to hear his answer.

"Jack-o'-lantern contest," he explained, wiping a spot of debris off of the stem. "It's on the last day of the festival and I've claimed victory three years running. I picked out Betty here this morning at the market and I'm not letting her out of my sight from now until then."

"You're joking, right?"

Harry put a plate of fresh blueberry muffins in front of her, covering the stack with a healthy amount of syrup. "He's not. That thing will be attached to his side until he's up on stage presenting it to the judges."

"Not to mention that he's going to spend the next five days giving that damn thing more love and attention than he will to me."

"Well, why shouldn't I?" Bart asked his wife, popping a few grapes in his mouth. "Betty here won't judge me or condescend to me or make me feel like a freak for having a map of Middle Earth hanging up in my office. All Betty will do is offer me herself, wholly and fully, working together with me to achieve a common goal: victory."

"Good for her then," Nell replied sweetly. "Just make sure whatever holes you crave into her are big enough so she can help you achieve something else I will not be assisting you with at all for the next five days."

"Can't-Can't you just do a charm to protect it and keep it fresh?" Hermione asked in a rush.

"No can do. Not allowed to use magic to win this contest, or any other in the festival unless it's needed. Like levitating apples for distance or Transfiguration to compete in the individual three-legged race. Everything has to be done by hand, from preservation to sculpting. Helps keep everyone honest. Not to mention, I trust no one to refrain from using sabotage to usurp my crown from me."

"For the last time," said an exasperated Nell. "Mrs. Velmen was not trying to knock the bloody pumpkin out of your hand when she bumped into you last year."

"Then why did she grip onto the arm holding my creation with such a death vice if she wasn't trying to jar something loose?"

"Maybe because she's seventy-six years old and didn't want to break her hip by falling onto the ground?"

"Or," Bart countered with a maniacal gleam in his eye, "she was doing her best to make sure her great-grandson had no competition.

"That's just in-"

"Regardless, Betty will be with me at all times for the foreseeable future. Get used to it, people."

"I married a lunatic," Nell felt obligated to say.

"Didn't have a wand to your throat when we signed the papers, Babe," Bart reminded her. "You went into this marriage with full knowledge of my crazy. Can't try to play the sympathy card now."

"It's not that weird," Ron told Nell. "Hermione refuses to let go of food all the time. When we're going to parties or lunch with my parents, she always insists on carrying whatever plate we brought with us until we get there." He chucked her shoulder playfully. "A little superstitious about making sure your food's perfect, right luv?"

"No," she said, biting back her smile, "I just like to ensure that whatever we bring over ends up on a table and not in your stomach before we leave the flat."

Ron nodded and tucked back into what was probably his fourth helping of eggs, his ear reddening. "Oh."

Ginny laughed and smiled at Harry from across the table, wiggling her toes in her shoes as she did.

No, simple didn't feel that bad at all.

* * *

><p>The entire village brimmed with life as the six of them made their way into the center of it. Wreaths of fall-colored ribbons and sculpted twigs hung from every lamppost which were all connected to one another by matching streamers. Leaves carpeted the cobblestone streets they walked on, creating a delightful commotion, and sat in large piles scattered throughout the square; if someone approached one too closely, the entire pile would explode in burst of red, orange, and yellow to blanket any passerby. Weavers, crafters, and artists offered up their beautiful creations to be viewed and sold as the scent of warm cider, roasted nuts, and a plethora of sweet pies and cakes permeated the air. Sausage links and beef strips hung from many of the food stands and every conceivable means of preparing apples were offered up by the vendors.<p>

Various performers were entertaining the crowds of younglings; one wizard had a group of children enraptured by a puppet show where the dolls were being controlled by his wand, as if conducting a musical piece; another had a tiny little creature that looked like a fluffy cat doing tricks, like changing colors or singing a jaunty tune as he danced a waltz on his hind legs; there was even a witch carefully Transfiguring the facial features of some children (under the watchful eyes of their parents) to give them small elephant ears or pig snouts. For the less daring, there was a station for face painting, only with the paint morphing ever so often from one image to another; someone could begin with leopard spots and change to zebra stripes a few minutes later. Musicians played on a small stage near the giant metal rings that circled just as gracefully around each other as the dancers in the center of the square did, much like Ginny's first night in Hastom. Further out beyond the square, in the wide open spaces of the fields and pastures, races were being run and games played for prizes, ribbons, and bragging rights.

"This is incredible," Hermione breathed as she, like Ginny, tried to take everything in.

Clinging tightly to Harry's hand, Ginny could only nod in agreement. The scene should have been overwhelming. It was crazy and loud and chaotic, but it was beautiful and never suffocating.

Ron's face was the only one of the group not awash with giddiness. His eyes took everything in as he was—for the first time in his life—seeing the place he had feared so greatly since childhood up close and personal. There was wall of distrust around him, his posture ready for any sudden attack or surprise.

"For goodness sakes, Ron," Ginny shook her head at him. "There is nothing in this place that will try to harm you. Stop being such a git and enjoy yourself."

"You don't think I know what a moron I'm being?" Ron asked her with raised eyebrows. He pulled Hermione closer to his side when a group of teenagers ran right by them, casting spells at each other that caused large blots of paint to stain their clothing. "Harry Potter himself, the Auror who will never recommend probation for anyone arrested at the Battle of Hogwarts, tells me this place is safe, which means it is beyond any doubt. Only I have to try to settle that with over twenty years of thinking the opposite. Believe me, it's not that simple."

"You're doing wonderfully, Ron," Hermione told him, pecking his cheek. "You have no idea how proud of you I am, just being here now. I thought it would take months and months to get through your thick…" She trailed off at the look her boyfriend was giving her and tried to recover. "You're always so…there is never…sod it, I'm just glad you're here of your own free will and I didn't have to use magical intervention on you."

"Thanks. I really appreciate that, 'Mione." He tempered his sarcastic response with a loving kiss to her forehead.

"Well, I know something that might help ease your tension," Nell offered helpfully.

"A Calming Draught?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"Nope. Alcohol. A couple of shots of Firewhiskey and you should be all sorted out enough to have some fun. Darling," she smiled at Bart, "why don't you and Harry take Ron around to do manly things for a bit while I take the ladies under my wing."

"And what are you going to be doing that you would be so eager to get rid of your husband?" Bart asked.

"Shopping," she replied.

"Goodbye," he said immediately, tucking his pumpkin securely underneath his arm. Hermione urged Ron to follow him with a gentle shove.

Harry gave Ginny a questioning look. "Will you be alright if I go?" he asked.

"Of course I will, you prat," she said affectionately, giving his shoulder a light punch. "Go have a drink or two. One for you and one for me. Just get Ron to loosen up a bit," she added under her breath. "He's wound tighter than Hermione during N.E.W.T.s."

"Will do." He gave her smile in goodbye as the men set off on their own, Bart positioning Harry and Ron on either side of him and his precious Betty.

The three women spent the next hour or so merrily walking around the crowded square, sampling the different cuisines and browsing the various handmade goods on display. As Nell explained some more about her upbringing in Hastom to Hermione, Ginny tuned them out, having heard most of it already and let herself drift away aimlessly, until she was standing in front of a stand selling knit pieces. A yellow sleeper made of the softest looking material Ginny had ever seen caught her attention. A picture formed in her mind of a small baby with licks of bright hair wearing this and she picked it up, fingering the outfit delicately.

The vendor pretended to adjust the buttons on his leather vest and eyed her carefully. "It's made of a special fabric," he told her. "We take goose feathers and sheep wool and combine the two together magically. Ancient family secret. Nothing else like it anywhere in the world. Everything handmade by my wife and daughters just like my mother and sister made them."

"It's beautiful," Ginny said. She laid it over the swell of her stomach to get a good look at the tiny arms and feet of the sleeper, unable to hide her smile as Iris started doing somersaults.

"My wife makes a wide variety of infant items: Hats, blankets, booties. All sorts of things."

"How much for this piece?"

The man bit his lip, his fingers coming up to brush through his goatee. "Like I said, it's a very special fabric. I think that…twelve Galleons is a fair enough price for it."

Ginny's smile fell slowly. Twelve Galleons? She had never once paid that much for clothes, even her school robes. Even when she began playing for the Harpies and making her own money, it had seemed wasteful to spend money on a new outfit when she could buy three for the same price secondhand. The fancy gowns and designer clothes Lionel had gifted her with didn't count. It wasn't her money, just his that she had unfortunately chosen to accept.

With so much of her money from the pub tied up in materials for constructing the house she'd receive when she became a citizen, there was so little left to buy things for the baby. Her sisters-in-law had been godsends, mailing over bags of baby clothes that their own children had outgrown as well as things like receiving blankets, spare bottles, and cloth nappies. She had been meaning to write back and see if one of them had an old pram or bassinet in storage she could use rather than buy one new.

Hoping her long hair hid the burning of her ears, Ginny neatly folded the sleeper back up and handed it back to the vendor. "It's a lovely piece," she told him. "I'm afraid it's a little out of my price range though."

"Normally, I wouldn't negotiate," he started to say, "but you seem like a sweet girl. Just this once, for you, I'll let you have it for eleven Galleons."

"Thank you, but-"

"Nine Galleons and the tan blanket with the duck stitched in the center of it," Hermione's voice said from just behind Ginny. She elbowed gently past Ginny to stand in front of the vendor, arms crossed, ready for battle. Nell sidled up to them and prepared to watch the show.

He mimicked Hermione's pose as he addressed her. "Ten Galleons for the sleeper and blanket. That's more than fair. And since you look like a visitor, I'll even throw in a pair of matching booties."

"Nine Galleons, five sickles, and two pairs of booties."

"Fifteen sickles."

"Ten. Final offer."

He didn't look thrilled, but he nodded stoically. "Deal."

Before Ginny could stop her, Hermione pulled out her handbag and reached in for the money, paying the man promptly and collecting her purchases. She smiled over at her dumbstruck friends. "You're welcome," she told Ginny as the trio walked away from the stand and continued their shopping.

"I have never seen anyone get Marcuson to go that low," Nell commented. "Where'd you learn that?"

"My grandmother loved going to rummage sales when I was little. I can't tell you how many times I saw her buy bags and bags of clothes for just a few coins." She handed the bag to Ginny. "I think the baby will look adorable in it."

"Normally I wouldn't even think of accepting this, but money…" Ginny sighed and patted her stomach. "You have no idea how many things you need or how expensive they can all be until you have a baby. Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione nodded slowly and took a moment to give her opinions a voice. "Is there any chance…I mean, I know you said the father shouldn't be involved and I trust your judgment in that regard. Perhaps if the arrangement were strictly financial, then-"

"No," Ginny cut in. "I won't accept money from him. I can't."

"I'm sure you think you're doing the right thing, but you shouldn't let that blasted Weasley pride interfere with providing care for your baby. What's the worst that could happen if the father has to pay some stipend of support?" Hermione replied, trying on a scarf and not noticing the look Nell and Ginny exchanged with one another.

Pride was not was keeping her from Lionel and his vaults full of all the gold needed to care for her child, although the Weasley aspect of that pride played more into than she could let Hermione know. There was no way she would ever risk destroying her family for the ability to buy nice things for her baby.

No way she would ever risk destroying Harry either.

"I only ask as a friend," Hermione continued. "This man does have responsibilities to his child that the law requires him to uphold, after all."

"He won't," Ginny said quietly.

Not quietly enough though.

Hermione slowly unwrapped the plaid scarf from her neck and hung it back on its hook. "Harry mentioned that you didn't know the man's name," she said to Ginny, her eyes crinkling in study. "That it was a one-time thing and he was married and you didn't even tell him about the baby. How can you be sure he wouldn't agree to some kind of assistance?"

_Damn it. Why does she have to be so smart? Would it have killed Harry and Ron to make friends with Lavender Brown first year instead of Hermione?_

Ginny glanced at Nell for help, but found her friend trying on different hats about twenty feet away with her back to them. Her message to Ginny was clear:

"You signed that stupid contract so you get to live with the consequences of it."

"I really wish Harry hadn't told you all that," Ginny began, leading Hermione to a relatively quiet spot tucked behind two stands. "Obviously, I'm not proud of what happened and it wasn't something I wanted to be common knowledge."

"It isn't," Hermione assured. "He was…upset when he told me after I asked him last week if he knew who the farther was and made me promise I wouldn't mention anything to Ron or your family. Which I won't."

"I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. Now, I'd appreciate it if you were honest with me and with Harry."

"It doesn't matter who the father is or what his name is or how much contact with him I had," Ginny argued. "It isn't the business of Harry or anyone else. The man isn't fit to be involved so he won't be. At all. End of discussion. Like I explained to my brother last night, it helps no one, especially Harry, if the father's name is even mentioned in public so it won't be."

That, at least, was true.

Hermione looked like she wanted very much to shake Ginny by the shoulders, but simply sighed and shook her own head. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ginny," she said. "That's all I'll say on the matter."

"Thank you."

"I will add, though, that keeping things to yourself had particularly unsavory consequences for people other than you in the past and that it may do you well to remember that."

"I know." No need to remind her of that one. She carried the guilt of it with her every day, the weight of it nearly as cumbersome as her own child was becoming.

"And I do hope, for your sake, what Harry said about this man not knowing about the baby was true."

They made their way slowly back to Nell. "Why is that?" Ginny asked.

"Because with the present circumstances, he still has rights to the child. Under the wizarding laws in Great Britain regarding child custody, unless both you and he go before a judge and mutually agree to sever his legal rights, they remain intact until the child turns seventeen," Hermione explained. "Which means he could show up at the hospital after the birth or the baby's first day of school at Hogwarts to make a claim for custody and any magistrate in the land would grant it, unless you could prove beyond all doubt that he was unfit in some way. Something that can be extremely difficult to do."

If her advice was meant to spark some kind of fear in Ginny, it didn't work. Lionel had made his intentions clear from the moment she told him she was having his child. There was not a paternal bone in his body. He was probably the most selfish man alive, using blackmail to avoid offering support to a child he had fathered. There was nothing she knew about him that led her to think Lionel would ever change his mind about his role in Iris's life. Going before a judge was unnecessary, not even worth bothering with. Especially considering she would have to say under oath that Lionel was the baby's father, something that would cause an avalanche of trouble that a technicality was not worth. Not to mention that if she made any attempt to contact Lionel now, she'd risk Harry finding out the truth. There had to be only so many times a one person could lie to another before whatever bonded them together broke forever.

If she was sure of nothing else in the world, she was at least sure of that.

She was saved from continuing the conversation by the appearance of Harry, Bart, and a visibly excited Ron between them. Hermione smiled a little to herself and went to wrap her arms around her boyfriend.

"Did you have fun with the boys?"

He looked around the square of Hastom and smiled softly. "Do you know something, 'Mione?" He kissed her soundly in front of everyone. "I kind of like this place. Harry and Ginny were both right. Everyone here's real nice and there's so many amazing things to do here. They also have all kinds of shops with things you wouldn't find anywhere else: Clothing, food, animals. Even jewelry."

"I'm glad to hear that you feel better about this place."

"I do. I really, really, do." He played with a stray lock of her hair as he swallowed deeply. "Do you know something amazing that we can do here together?"

"What?"

"Get married."

Nell, having no knowledge of Ron and Hermione's little exchange, nearly spit out the Butterbeer her husband had just handed her. Grinning, Ginny settled next to Harry's side to watch.

Hermione smirked and stepped back a little to give Ron some space. "Alright, go ahead," she said. "Pull out a 'ring' and tell me how your life won't be complete without me in it. Let's do it quick, though, there's an exhibit on Icelandic witch's robes that I want to go and see before lunch."

Ron nodded, his smile fading. "Okay," he told her. With a great deliberation, he sunk down to one knee and pulled a black box from his jacket pocket, presenting it to a giggling Hermione. Beside her, Ginny felt Harry stiffen in realization.

"This is new," Hermione said. She put it to her ear and shook it. "Never had a fancy box before. Not noisy, whatever it is. Perhaps a dead ladybug or an old toenail?"

"Is she always this crazy," Nell whispered in Ginny's ear, "or did she somehow fall and hit her head without anyone noticing?" Ginny started to answer, but the solemn look on her brother's face gave her pause.

_Oh goodness_, she thought, her breath catching. She looked to Harry for confirmation and he nodded with wide eyes. _Ron's serious. He's bloody well proposing and…and…_

Hermione had no idea whatsoever.

"I must say, this is one of your least memorable proposals, Ronald. There's no singing, no banners, no flock of birds to be released or party hats to celebrate with. Are you getting lazy on me?"

Ginny wanted to wring her friend's neck out like a wet shirt. There was a small crowd gathering around them, all eyes curiously on the bushy-haired young woman mocking the man in front of her on one knee. _Open the damn box, Hermione!_

"We're on a vacation, for goodness sakes," she continued as, at last, she started to ease the top of the box open. "You could have at least had a dwarf dressed as a cherub playing the harp next to you while you…you…" The sunlight reflected off the jewel in the box, blinding Hermione for a moment as she sputtered to a stop. Glancing between the box and the small smile on Ron's lips, Hermione screamed loudly and backed away until she collided with a lamppost.

"I met you when I was eleven years old," Ron began earnestly from his spot, "and from then until the age of eighteen, I was a sodding idiot. There's no question about it. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing that you were, too. It shouldn't have taken the threat of imminent death for us to accept how much we loved each other and now that we do have a future where we don't have to worry every day about a madman killing us or our families, I want to spend all of it with you. Hermione Granger, will you-?"

"RONALD WEASLEY, YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY THE STUPIEST MAN TO EVER WALK THE PLANET!" Hermione screeched before he could finish, gesturing wildly with her hands and coming forward to smack him lightly upside the head, much to the crowds shock. Instead of deflating, Ron only smiled lovingly up at her. "There is a plan! A plan I've had since I was thirteen years-old! We are supposed to date for three years, live together for four, go through two and half years of counseling to prepare ourselves, and then, finally, you were supposed to propose to me at my parent's fortieth wedding anniversary party so we wouldn't have to pay for a photographer to capture such a happy occasion!" Growling, she shoved him hard and turned away.

"Now wait a tick!" Ron grabbed her wrist and used it to stop her while pulling himself up. Turning her, he used one hand to take the box from her and the other to cup her cheek with. "Do you love me?"

All of the ire left her system at his simple question. With tears in her eyes, she answered tremulously, "Of course I do."

"Do you want to put up with me every single day for the rest of our lives?"

She nodded and smiled slightly. "I do."

"Then just say yes."

"But…But the plan is-"

"Hermione, I solemnly swear that from now until the end of time, you can plan every single aspect of our lives together: How many kids we have, where we live, what I wear to work in the morning. You can have carte blanche over all of it. For this one thing, this one instance, let's go with my plan."

"Which is?"

"Well, I don't think we'll have an issue finding a magistrate to draw us up a contract or that would mind marrying us today. We have our best friends here to stand with us," Ron smiled at Harry and his teary-eyed sister, "and two more friends to serve as witnesses." He nodded at Nell and Bart before sheepishly looking over the dozens of other people gathered around them. "Plus, uh, I'm sure some kind stranger here has a camera we can borrow." The crowd laughed quietly and a few in it nodded. Ron looked back down at Hermione with such love and tenderness, Ginny felt her knees wobble. Harry reached over and took her hand in his, everyone else around them completely still and silent. "So please, just marry me, 'Mione. Because in all honesty, my life really isn't complete without you in it."

Wrapping her arms around Ron's neck, Hermione managed to say, "Two children. A boy and a girl." She kissed his cheek. "We'll live in London and get a summer cottage in Scotland for two weeks every year." Another kiss to his other cheek. "You can wear whatever you like to work as long as it's not plaid and it doesn't have anything to do with the Chudley Cannons." She finally brushed her lips across his and nestled her nose against his before whispering for all to hear, "Yes." Applause and cheering broke out around them as they held each other in their own world.

"You think they realize," Harry murmured against Ginny's ear over the roar of the crowd, "that your mother will absolutely kill them when she finds out what they've done?"

"No," Ginny replied happily, "but I truly hope someone is recording her face when they tell her." She smiled at him, loving how the joy shone in every part of his eyes.

They were beautiful eyes and she saddened a bit as she suddenly realized that no matter how perfect her daughter was, Iris would never have green eyes.

* * *

><p>"We're married," Hermione sighed, tangled together with her new husband in Nell and Bart's kitchen. "We're really married." Nell and Ginny smiled at them, putting the finishing touches on an apple tart together near the stove.<p>

"Yes, we are."

"I love you so much."

"I love you, too."

Hermione plucked a cherry from the fruit bowl on the table and put it between her lips. Ron met her in the middle and they devoured the piece of fruit as one. The smile slipped off Nell's face and Ginny looked away before she threw up all over a perfectly lovely desert.

"Guys," Bart said to Ron and Hermione from his place next to them at the table without looking up from his project. He had his pumpkin in front of him and he studied each section of it carefully before he took his craving knife to it. "You've been married for five days now. The lovey-dovey is getting pretty stale. Lighten up a bit, please. For the sake of all our digestive systems."

Hermione only glared at Bart as she reached for another cherry. "I'm sure you and your wife were just as enthralled with each other as my husband and I are. Forgive my husband and I for wanting to revel in our happiness. You see, my husband and I-"

"Ron," Ginny cut in as she packaged the sweet treat with the other dozen, "please tell your wife that if she doesn't climb off of you and shut her trap, I will take the picture of her I have from the Christmas dinner seventh year and send it to _The Daily Prophet_, where I'm sure it will rate a front-page cover. I don't think your wife or her new mother-in-law would enjoy seeing her in a skin-tight green-"

Hermione slid off Ron's lap into her own seat, putting considerable distance between them. Ron could only stare at his sister with glassy eyes. "I-I'd like to see that," he said feebly.

"Thank you," Bart said to Ginny. He made another delicate cut to the flesh of the pumpkin. "It's really hard to concentrate with those two tongue dueling all the time and Betty here needs all my focus for today."

"Dear Betty has gotten all of your focus for nearly a week now," Nell muttered under her breath. "For Merlin's sake, you've **bathed** the damn thing…"

"Perfection is costly and not for the faint of heart," Bart replied. He slowly let out a breath as he completed a particular cut. "Sacrifices must be made to attain it."

Nell made a face as she gathered her share of the desserts and shrunk them down to fit easily into hers and Ginny's purses. "Have a wonderful morning attaining it, my love. We're going to drop these off for the potluck lunch. Ron or Hermione, would you care to join us?"

Even sitting apart, it wasn't hard to spot Ron's hand gently stroking Hermione's knee. Nor was it hard to imagine how those two would occupy their time until Bart's Jack-o'-lantern contest that afternoon. "I'm a bit knackered, actually," Ron said, never taking his eyes off his wife. "Think I might take a quick kip before we leave."

Hermione smiled devilishly. "And I have some paperwork from the Ministry that simply must be attended to."

"Just so long as you two don't attend to the 'paperwork' on my bed, feel free to use any other room or surface in my house for your attending. I would also appreciate it if you were liberal with the Scrubbing Charms afterwards," Nell told them as she kissed the top of her husband's head in goodbye. "Good luck today. I'll see you after the judging."

"No thanks," he said, holding the carved pumpkin up to the light for examination. "I'm not hungry, I'll eat later."

Nell and Ginny were out the door when Nell decided to take out her frustrations on a poor pile of leaves. "My third cousin Hildy lived a perfectly happy life as a celibate spinster. Why didn't I see the wisdom of her choices until it was too late?"

"So you married a man who can be a bit of a nutter at times. Who cares? He adores you," Ginny consoled her. "Believe me, there are worse men in the world to end up with."

Nell smirked a little. "I suppose you're something of an expert on that subject, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid I could teach a course in it."

"Still, you have to admit he did leave you with a priceless parting gift." She reached over and patted Ginny's belly before she grew serious. "You're really not worried? About what Hermione said the other day about Lionel coming back someday and having rights to my godchild?"

"No," Ginny said simply. "I saw his face when he told me he wanted me to terminate. That man has no room in whatever excuse he has for a heart for anyone except himself. Your goddaughter only has a mother and that's that."

They kept a leisurely pace as they made their way to the pasture where the potluck would be held.

"How was Harry when he left this morning?" Nell finally asked.

Ginny shrugged a little. "Quiet," she said. "A bit out of sorts. I imagine it's hard for him today, thinking about everything he lost all those years ago."

"It's good that he goes to Godric's Hollow to visit with his parents' graves. Truthfully, I don't know how healthy it is for him to spend the entire day there, at the cemetery and at his parents' house, but if it helps him in some way I suppose I shouldn't complain. Did he have his Invisibility Cloak with him?"

"He tucked it in his jacket before he left the house. And I made sure he took a lunch with him so he wouldn't have to be seen if he didn't want to be."

"You take very good care of him," Nell observed thoughtfully.

"Someone should, on this day more than ever," Ginny said, kicking a stray stone. "When I think of him as a child sometimes, growing up with those rotten, vile monsters he had to call family…" She shuddered and laid a hand over the baby. "I can't even think of someone treating my daughter like that, as a servant, a slave if something happened to me."

Nell studied the path they were walking on intently before she spoke gently. "That's actually something I need to discuss with you. As your healer and not as your friend. Something that should be a part of the birth plan, as a single parent."

"What exactly?"

"I just want to say before I get this out that you're fine and the baby is fine and I don't anticipate anything for you but a healthy and safe delivery. Alright? Is that clear?"

"Yes, perfectly."

"Okay. So with all that, as your healer, it's my duty to advise you that as you are the only parent who can, or rather will be making legal decisions for the baby, it would be best if you had a will made out before you give birth."

"A will? You mean in case…"

"Yes, in case you die before your child is of age. That way you have the final say over who you want to have custody and control over whatever assets you may have. Otherwise, legally, Lionel would have to be tracked down and he would have the authority to decide whom your child lived with. Something absolutely none of us would want."

"No," Ginny agreed softly. Death wasn't something she cared to think of often, especially her own. However, her qualms and apprehensions were a distant second to ensuring that Iris had the best life possible. "Okay then. Thank you. Maybe I can detach Hermione from my brother long enough to see if she can help me before they leave."

"Good." She raised an eyebrow. "Any…any ideas on who you would pick off the top of your head?"

"I think, hopefully, you and Bart will have a houseful of children of your own. Adding my own to the mix probably would make things a bit crowded."

"Yes. I mean, don't misunderstand me. We'd be happy, honored really, to raise your child as our own. I just think that perhaps, maybe, there's someone better suited to the job than us."

"Well, my parents are wonderful, but they're getting older and I don't want them to have go through another seventeen years of child rearing at their age," Ginny thought out loud. "I think if I'd want any of my brothers to take care of my baby, it would be Bill. He has two girls of his own, though, and a third baby on the way. I know what it was to be raised in a large family, how much effort it took my parents, and I don't feel right asking my brother to do that. Neville might be willing, he's a good friend. Of course he doesn't know that I'm even pregnant so that's a whole other conversation-"

"What about Harry?" Nell blurted out. "I think he'd be ideal, actually."

_Harry? Raising Iris? Being a fath…a-a guardian to her? How would that ever work? _

"Why do you say that?" Ginny asked as casually as she could.

"He lives here in Hastom, the place you've said countless times that you want the baby to grow up in; he has a good paying job so he can provide well; he's close to your entire family and can make sure that everyone stays connected to the baby. And…and he cares already, Ginny. Surely you can see how much he cares for that little one."

"I know he does," she deferred.

"Then wouldn't he be the best choice out there? Can you really think of anyone better?" Nell implored.

_To raise my child? Not since I was eight years-old. No one else has even come close._

"It's a huge responsibility," Ginny said instead. "Harry's already so committed to Teddy and he doesn't even live with Harry full-time. I just don't think I'd feel right about asking him to do something so…so…" She gestured helplessly with her hands, unable to think of a word that would encompass taking in her daughter.

He had taken them both in, temporarily, out of obligation to his village and out of friendship. And it was true what Nell had said before. Harry did care for the baby. Every touch and funny comment to her belly proved that. It wasn't surprising to her. He had fought a war, nearly given his own life countless times, to ensure that the world was peaceful and happy. Why shouldn't he find joy in the knowledge that all his efforts would be appreciated by an innocent child coming into such a world?

But no matter what he felt for Iris, or the woman carrying her, it wasn't fair of Ginny to try to foist something like this on Harry. Not if there were other options. It wasn't something a…if she asked him this, she wouldn't be a good…

_Friend? That's the word, isn't it? That's the perfect description for what I am to Harry._

_Isn't it?_

Ginny grimaced a little, hating how acrid that one word—friend—tasted even in her own private musings.

"Just think about it," Nell told her, "and talk to Harry about it. His answer might surprise you."

"I will," she said simply.

They made their way back from the pasture slowly, stopping every so often to chat with a fellow villager or admire an interesting Halloween costume one of the children had decided to sport early, in preparation for tonight's trick or treating. They walked by the stage that would display the afternoon's Jack-o'-lanterns and Nell gave a grunt of disproval.

"I swear, Bart gets worse every single year," she said. "It's like with every win, he gets more obsessed with winning. He's going to take the blasted thing into bed with us next year, I guarantee it."

"Just make the pumpkin a little basket, like for a dog, to keep next the bed," Ginny joked. "That should satisfy him."

"It's not nice to think, but I almost want him to lose just so he gets knocked down a peg or twelve."

"Maybe he will this year."

"Not likely. My husband can make an excellent Jack-o'-lantern, I will give him that. And the judges love him, too. Unless someone pulls out something either incredibly creative—I'm talking spitting fire creative—or incredibly adorable, Bart will be bringing home blue ribbon number four." She sighed in annoyance.

It was only by chance to avoid a pair of four year-old twins dressed as dragons that the stand caught Ginny's eye. The idea popped in a second later and she grinned to herself.

"Nell," she said to her friend, "do you mind if I meet you later, after the judging?"

"Sure. Is everything alright?"

Ginny's grin became something bordering on evil. "Everything is just fine. I think I just figured out a way to drop your husband down about twelve pegs." She hurried away, leaving Nell gaping after her.

Hours later, as she prepared for the judging, Ginny smoothed her hand over her belly and whispered down to it, "Ready to show up Uncle Bart in front of the entire village, sweetheart?" The baby kicked in reply. "Yup, that's what I thought." Standing behind a line of people carrying round, orange creations, she followed them out as the procession took their places on the wide wooden stage, oblivious to the strange looks they were all giving her.

Bart couldn't see her from his place in the line. It wasn't until the head judge, Mr. Winterfell, announced the names of the contestants that he glanced down in surprise when he heard hers called. Quirking an eyebrow at her empty hands, Ginny only smiled coyly and turned her head to find most of the village glancing at her in much the same way. They all must have thought her off her rocker, to be competing in Jack-o'-lantern carving contest with no pumpkin to offer.

She'd show them all, in just a few minutes.

One by one, the twenty or so competitors stepped up to center stage and presented their creations before the village through a large piece of glass (charmed to magnify the image behind it thirty feet high) and the four judges. Bart, being the reigning champion, was first and dear Betty now had an entire scene from the classic tale, _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ depicted all around her, in intricate detail; the characters on it had unique facial expressions and the water in the fountain itself seemed to gleam somehow. It was truly a work of art and Bart received rave applause from the judges and the spectators alike. His grin stretched to his hairline and he waved magnanimously to the crowd, wholly confident that another blue ribbon would soon be his.

_Not if I can help it_, Ginny thought, cradling her stomach.

The rest of the contestants followed Bart with slumped shoulders and indifferent looks. They were all just in the path of a runaway carriage; nothing to be done now, but get run over by it. Two people even slipped quietly off the stage before they could be called. Amid polite applause and encouraging pats on the back, all the others stepped back to their spots until only Ginny remained.

_Here we go_, she thought when Mr. Winterfell had called her.

With an angelic smile, she walked to the center and stood between the four judges in front of the glass. The quartet exchanged puzzled glances with one another; in front of her, the villagers murmured and pointed.

"My dear," Mr. Winterfell mumbled nervously to her. "Are you…Are you sure you're in the right contest? This is for decorating pumpkins, after all."

"I know it is," she replied, "and I brought one with me."

"Well, uh, where is it, may I ask?"

Seizing up her confidence before it failed her, Ginny grabbed the tails of her shirt and pulled them up. "Right here. The most precious pumpkin imaginable."

The crowd in front of her gasped a little when they took in the site of her large, pregnant stomach painted bright orange all over. A pair of warm brown eyes sat over her belly button and underneath it, the smile of an eager child. A hint of pink on both side created the illusion of a shy blush and the wide, inviting smile even had two teeth missing from it. The face painter had taken nearly four hours to complete the image by hand and in Ginny's mind it was well-worth the two Galleons it cost her.

To the crowds as well. After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd began clapping wildly, whistling and cheering on Ginny's cheek. The judges around her hid laughter behind their hands and nodded to themselves in delight. Unable to help herself, she looked back at Bart. He frowned and clutched Betty tightly to him.

When the applause finally died down, Mr. Winterfell gave her a sturdy handshake. "Thank you very much, my dear! That was quite a show. We won't soon forget that one." Ginny lowered her shirt and waved to the crowd, blowing a few farewell kisses as she went back to her place in line. After a brief conversation, the judges handed out the ribbons for sixth, fifth, fourth, and third place in quick succession. "Now, now, I think," Mr. Winterfell addressed the crowd, "we all know who the top two finishers are today. May I ask Citizen Nixon and Prospect Weasley to please step forward while we deliberate and see who the victor here is today."

The two friends walk forward until they stood next to each other on stage.

"You think you're real funny, don't you?" Bart asked behind a wide grin for the crowd watching them. "Coming in here and trying to mess with my happiness. Well, let me tell you something, sister: This is mine to lose."

"I think that you sound very confident for a wizard who should be shaking in his shoes. You worked on your design for five days; mine took a fraction of that time and it's about to take your crown away from you."

"Oh, is that what you think? That you can just come up here and compete with the big boys your first time up?"

"I don't think it, I know it. After all, I am standing up here with you, aren't I, Big Boy?"

"That's what all this is about? Showing me up?"

"Mostly, yes, but it's also about showing you that you're acting like a complete prat about the entire thing. I mean, you've ignored your wife for almost a week to win a stupid ribbon! Can't you see how ridiculous that is?"

"No more ridiculous than you using your unborn son to win that same ribbon. Huh? Who's the prat now?"

Ginny turned her face sharply towards him at his words. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me, you pr-"

"Did you say my son?" she asked quietly. The phony smile fell away slowly as her heart began to pound.

Bart's eyes widened and he turned to her as well. "No," he said after a pause. "I-I didn't say that at all."

"You said my son."

"I said your kid, not your son," he tried to hastily deny.

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you said-"

"And first place, despite a most valiant effort by Prospect Weasley, for the fourth year in a row goes to Citizen Nixon!" Mr. Winterfell announced, coming between then and wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders while he magically pinned their ribbons to their chests. They whipped their heads unblinkingly to the roaring crowd as Ginny clutched her stomach.

_A….A….son? My son?_

Somehow, as Bart remained for pictures, Ginny made her way down from the stage in a daze. Almost immediately, she found Nell, Ron, and Hermione waiting for her. They all began speaking to her at once

"That was incredible!" Hermione said as she hung on Ron's arm. "Where on Earth did you come up with that idea? I never-"

"Personally," Ron said with a peck to her cheek, "I liked Bart's better, but yours-"

Nell gave her a squeeze as well. "I have to admit, seeing the look on his face when everyone started clapping for you was-"

"He told me I'm having a boy," Ginny said without preamble when Nell pulled back. "On stage just now, Bart said the baby is a boy. Why-Why would he think that? I'm having a girl." Nell's mouth dropped open in shock, her cheeks flaming. Ginny didn't give her a chance to answer. "My baby's a girl. Right?"

Something suddenly splattered at their feet and they looked down to see the remnants of poor Betty on the ground, Bart splayed out behind it on his knees. He scrambled upright and raced to join them. "I didn't say anything!" he cried out in a panic. "I didn't! She's…She's insane, that's all!"

"Nell," Ginny shook her to get her attention, "what's going on? Why does Bart think I'm having a boy?"

The healer looked between Ginny and the guilty face of her husband before she took Ginny by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye. "Because you are," she admitted.

"That…that's…no," Ginny replied with a small smile. This wasn't happening. It was a dream, a bizarre dream like the one she had had the other day that shook her to the core the same way she felt now. "That's wrong. You're mistaken. The baby's a girl. I…I know it. I've known it since…" She trailed off as Nell shook her head.

"It's a boy. I'm one hundred percent positive." Nell tried to laugh. "Either that or she has two and half legs." Her laughter faded as she turned her eyes to her husband. "How did you know anyways?"

"You've been buying blue baby clothes for three months now and you suck at hiding things in the house. It wasn't that hard to piece together," Bart said incredulously.

"Well, of course it's a boy," Ginny heard Ron say distantly. "She's a Weasley, what else would she have?"

"Ronald, that is entirely far too sexist for-"

"Guys, be quiet!" Nell hushed them. She studied Ginny carefully. "I'm sorry. You just…you said you didn't want to know the sex for certain so that's why I didn't say anything whenever you referred to the baby as a 'she'. And the most important thing is that the baby is healthy. That's what matter most, right?"

_No! It matters! It matter a great deal!_ Ginny screamed in her head.

"Yes," she said quietly to her friends. "Yes, that's wh-what really counts. In the end."

An awkward silence hung over all of them for a moment before Bart cleared his throat. "So, uh, listen we all have to get ready for the party tonight. We should start heading back."

"You're right," Nell agreed. "Ginny, you're welcome to come and change at our house."

Ginny shook her head, easing herself out of Nell's gentle hold. "No, thank you. I'll be fine at my…at Harry's house." Backing away, she raised a hand in goodbye, flushing at the concerned looks they were all given her. "I-I'll see you later." Pivoting abruptly, she left the festival for the safety of home, her hand never once coming off her stomach.

* * *

><p>That evening, as she wore a ludicrously hideous outfit and passed out drinks to hordes of others in equally ludicrous outfits at the loud and boisterous Halloween party at the Falcon, Ginny's mind was still a world away.<p>

The world where everything made sense and she was still having a girl.

The world where Iris still existed.

There was no Iris, not anymore. There was someone else growing inside Ginny. Someone she didn't know at all and it was terrifying to her. In the whirlwind of uncertainty her life had been for the past five months, she had been able to cling tightly to one thing whole and true: Her little girl.

Now, that truth was gone and in its place was a…a…

Ginny raced into the back of the pub. She ducked into Bart's quiet office and shut her eyes, feeling the tears well behind them as the celebration went on without her.

She couldn't even think the word in her mind, let alone say it out loud.

_You are awful, Ginevra Molly Weasley, truly awful. You can't even acknowledge what your own child is. What the hell kind of mother will you make? You know what would really serve you right? If that child came out the spitting image of Lionel. That would really tie things together nicely, wouldn't it?_

The crack of a branch outside the window of the office suddenly startled her. Ginny didn't have time to scream before she saw Harry's face in the window for a second before he bent down. Her heart eased at the sight of him. He hadn't spotted her yet so she quickly wiped her eyes and took a breath to calm down as he used his wand to open the window. He hoisted himself over the ledge and was halfway in when he finally saw her.

"Hey," he greeted her with a grunt as he shoved himself through the opening. She went to his side and helped him to his feet. "What are you doing in here?"

"Just…Just taking a moment. It's a bit crazy out there. What about you? They have these newfangled things called 'doors' nowadays."

Harry smiled a little. "Like you said, it's crazy in there. I wanted to sneak in here and get my bearings for a little while before I braved it. I don't Apparate in because of a particular…steamy moment I caught Bart and Nell in once. More than once, actually. It's best to check the room first before you go barging into places they own," He sat down on the small bench by the door with his knees to his elbows. He smirked at her outfit. "Lovely getup. It suits you."

She bristled at the mere mention of the glittery gold tuxedo jacket and shorts that Bart had presented her with the other day. She was supposed to be someone called Columbia from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and the jeweled corseted top stretched tightly over her stomach. "Did you just get back from Godric's Hollow?" Ginny asked as she joined him.

He nodded. "Yeah. I Apparated to the house and walked here from there. I needed to clear my head."

She laid a comforting hand on his back and made soothing circles with it. "Are you alright?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't mind listening if there's something you need to get off your chest," she prodded. Even in her state, she could see the slight swelling left by tears underneath his eyes.

It took him a little while before he was finally able to speak. "Every time I go there," he began, "I go to the cemetery and tell my parents about what's happening in my life right now. All the good and all the bad. It's stupid, really, but it makes me feel closer to them in a way."

"It's not stupid."

"Anyways, I spend most of the day there with them and before I leave, I walk by the house where they…where we lived when they died. There are always wreaths and flowers there, less now that Voldermort is finally gone. So I'll just stand there looking up at the mangled old house for ages and do you know the only thing I can think? That my parents would probably both still be here today if it wasn't for me. Same with Sirius and Remus and so many others I can't name. It's just…I don't know. The more years pass, there are times when it can all feel like it was a dream; being in Godric's Hollow is when it's the most real."

Ginny leaned her forehead into his black hair. "I'm sorry."

He took her hand in both of his. "I swear I can even hear her there sometimes. My mother, I mean. Her screams when he confronted her. She must have been so scared, knowing she was…that he would strike her down. I hate that she did that to save me."

"She had to," Ginny murmured into his ear. "She didn't have a choice."

"Yes, she did," Harry said, pulling away to look in her eyes. "He gave her a chance to move and-"

"I don't mean Voldermort didn't give her one. I meant that, as your mother, there was no choice between your life and hers." The words poured out of Ginny without thought, only feeling. "You were her baby, the one she felt growing and moving inside of her. From the moment she knew she was carrying you, you were her greatest love and she was going to protect that with every breath she had in her. When your parents learned of the prophecy, I think—no, I know that your mother knew what her fate would be and if it meant keeping you alive, her life was worth it."

Harry glanced down from her face to her belly, lingering on it. "Is that what you thought when you knew you were having the Snitch? That you'd sacrifice anything to keep your child safe?"

"Yes," Ginny replied. "It's what any mother who truly loves her child thinks. So that's what your mother thought. Because, Harry, she truly loved you."

"Thank you," he whispered, meeting her gaze again.

"You're welcome." They stared into each other's eyes as the clock ticked in the office and the party raged on without them. Suddenly, the baby gave a swift kick to her ribs and Ginny winced. "Ouch!"

Harry let out a nervous laugh. "Little girl's getting antsy in there, isn't she?"

It took a few seconds for her lips to form the words. "I'm having a b-boy."

He stopped laughing immediately and narrowed his eyes. "Come again?"

"The Snitch isn't a girl," she explained, watching as he processed the news. "I just found out today. A few hours ago actually. I'm still…It hasn't really sunk in yet."

"A boy," Harry tested the words out on his tongue. "That's…well, unexpected, I suppose."

"Believe me, I know."

"It's not a bad thing, though." She looked down at the floor. "Isn't it?" When she didn't answer again, he asked quietly, "Do you love the baby less now that it's a boy?"

"No!" Ginny cried, feeling the tears return. "Of course not! He's my child! I just…I can't…."

"Tell me. If you can, tell me." He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Under the beat of his heart, it wasn't as hard to understand as it had been before.

"Since the moment I knew I was having a baby, I knew that I could be a good mother. I was scared of what would come, but I knew deep down in my heart that I could have a baby and be a good mother. I had been raised by an excellent one, after all. So even when everything went to hell and back around me, I had that certainty that motherhood was something I could handle."

"And…"

She smiled sadly. "It was that exact same certainty that also made me so sure I was having a girl. If I was wrong about one, how do I know I wasn't wrong about both?"

Harry didn't speak for a time, just rubbed his hand up and down Ginny's arm. "I have seen," he finally said, "with my own eyes just how much you love this baby. What you've sacrificed for it and what you've been willing to do to create the best life possible for the both of you. It's like you just told me: My mother didn't become my mother the minute they laid me in her arms for the first time; she was my mother as soon as she knew she was carrying me. It's the same for you. Ginny, you've been a mother for months now and you've been a damned good one, in my opinion. The only difference is now you're one to a son instead of a daughter."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Besides, think of the good that's going to come out of having a boy. You'll never have to worry that your daughter is going to want frilly pink girl things or want to play Tea instead of Quidditch or that she'll grow up to be just like you."

Ginny laughed into his chest, the heaviness in her heart fading away until it was a distant memory. "I'll know what's in store for me, growing up in a houseful of boys and all," she added.

"You'll get to torture all of his girlfriends when he grows up about how they're not good enough for him."

She sat up and stared daggers at him. "You honestly think I'm letting another woman near my little boy?"

He chuckled at her glare. "Yeah, you'll be just fine."

"Yes, I will be," she agreed, rubbing her belly tenderly. "We both will be. Of course, now I have to come up with name for him. Pity, too, because I already had the girl's name all picked out and ready to go."

"What was it?"

Since there was no more daughter, there was no more secret name to be kept between her and Ginny. "Iris."

Harry smiled softly. "That's a lovely name."

"She was a lovely girl," Ginny said, still a little sad about saying goodbye to even the idea of her daughter. Her son twirled inside her, though, and it made it easier to let go.

"Maybe…Maybe you'll get to meet her someday," Harry told her. Before she could reply, the entire pub shook as music began pumping through building loudly. Harry grinned and took her hand, tugging her up. "Come on. You're not going to want to miss this."

Harry dragged her out of the office and back into the pub. He maneuvered them through the throngs of people until they reached the bar. On the right hand side of it stood a narrow spiral staircase, conjured just for tonight. The crowd clapped and cheered and banged on tables until, at last, a caped figure Apparated onto the top of the stairs. The cape was flung into the mob, revealing a person, in high-heeled black boots; fishnet stockings; a tight black corset and garters; fingerless black leather gloves and a string of pearls to top it all off. Turning to the masses, Ginny gasped when she realized who she was looking at.

Bart, powdered pale with ruby red lips and his black hair teased out, greeted his pub. "Hello, babies," he said in a deep voice. "How are you all tonight, celebrating this delicious Eve of Hallow?" They whooped and cheered right back at him. Ginny could only shake her head in shock. She knew Bart had more than his share of quirks, but this…

This was fabulous!

He spotted her by the bar and leered playfully at her. "It seems that a new baby has found her way into my castle tonight," he told everyone. "Shall I properly introduce myself to her?" He was answered with a roar of approval and he nodded in satisfaction. "Then let's put her where everybody can see her. Boys?"

A few sets of hands grasped the back of Ginny's legs and she felt herself hoisted up to the bar before she could let out a scream. As she got her footing, she felt every pair of eyes on her in the room and she trembled, wary of what was about to happen. Looking to Harry for help, he simply smiled and nodded, calming her. If he felt she was safe, then she knew she was.

No matter what Bart had up his sleeve.

The rhythm of the music changed to a blistering guitar riff and Bart started making his way down the stairs. He made a microphone appear out of thin air and he started singing into it.

_How d'you do, I see you've met my faithful handyman  
>He's just a little brought down because when you knocked<br>He thought you were the candyman.  
>Don't get strung out by the way that I look,<br>Don't judge a book by its cover  
>I'm not much of a man by the light of day,<br>But by night I'm one hell of a lover_

I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.

He slinked his way down the railing until he was in the midst of his admirers. He kissed and squeezed a few choice individuals, the biggest one saved for his wife. Nell had on an atrociously short maid's outfit and her hair was charmed bright red, frizzy and glorious. 

So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound  
>You look like you're both pretty groovy<br>Or if you want something visual that's not too abysmal  
>We could take in an old Steve Reeves movie.<p>

Finally, he reached the bar and lifted himself onto it. He stomped over to Ginny and took her hand, kissing it and using it to pull her flush up against him, her back to his front. Bart danced them together provocatively with the eyes of the Falcon upon them.

So you got caught with a flat, well, how about that?  
>Well babies, don't you panic.<br>By the light of the night when it all seems alright  
>I'll get you a satanic mechanic.<p>

I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.

Ginny's nerves and fears abated the more she moved with Bart. There's was no worries about money or Lionel or her baby or where she stood with Harry. There's was only this moment, surrounded by friends and music and life and the future. She turned in Bart's arms and led him up and down the length of the bar.

So why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite?  
>I could show you my favorite obsession.<br>I've been making a man with blond hair and a tan  
>And he's good for relieving my tension<p>

At the last lyrics, Ginny grabbed the microphone and sang the chorus herself , sending the pub into near hysterics.

I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.  
>I'm just a Sweet Transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania.<p>

When the music died away, she bowed as best she could to the crowd.

The time for worrying was over.

The time for living was right here and right now.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Notes: Hello, readers! Another adventure for us all in the form of this chapter. It was by far the hardest to write, and it was also the most satisfying. Eternal thanks and gratitude to my wonderful betas. There's some extra thanks to them at the end of this chapter. I'll take questions anyone might have, and I imagine that by the last line of this there'll be a couple. The lyrics in this song are not mine, but Stephen Schwartz and Disney. As always, please read, review, and rejoice!**

Harry flicked the page of the newspaper and shook his head. "Chudley is going to break Ron's heart again this year."

Ginny glanced away from her attempt at knitting and smirked down at his head from her spot above him on the sofa. "No matter what he says, that man does love a tumultuous relationship. Secretly I'm sure he's giddy with every loss. It gives him more agony to revel in."

"Your Uncle Ron," Harry said, leaning his head back on the sofa cushion and addressing Ginny's swollen stomach, "is an admirable man. I can think of none with more honor. That being said, young man, if he ever tries to give you a Cannon's poster or rosette, run as far away from him as you can. Do not let yourself get sucked into rooting for those orange hooligans that couldn't score a goal with a fifty-foot wide hoop."

"You needn't worry. My son will be a Harpies devotee and that is that," Ginny vowed. She tried to focus on winding the stubborn strands of yarn into a pattern with her needles as opposed to a knot of blue.

"There are a lot of great teams out there besides the Harpies. What if he ends up rooting for the Arrows or Puddlemere United?"

"He can like as many teams as he wants to. If I ever get wind of him liking another team more than the Harpies, I'll just put him on a strict diet of pig intestines and fish eyeballs for the rest of his life." She rubbed her belly affectionately and addressed it. "Did you hear that? Mummy isn't joking one bit."

"You are brutal," Harry said with a smile, continuing his perusal of _The Evening Prophet_.

"How could I not be? Remember who raised me?"

"Naturally. Now, back to Quidditch: What's going to happen when the Snitch has grown up to be the most talented Seeker-"

"Chaser."

"-that Great Britain has ever seen? Without some of the best Transfiguration and Charms work known to man, your son will never be able to play for the all-witch Harpies. Are you telling me that you, his own mother, will not cheer for him if his Arrows are playing against your old team?"

"No, I will stand and whoop to the high heavens with every goal he scores," Ginny said. "I will also be doing it wearing my green robes."

Harry only shook his head. They lapsed into a comfortable silence and Ginny returned her focus to her knitting. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the yarn to look anything like the picture in the pattern her mother had sent.

_Keep working at it,_ she thought, keeping the needles moving. _This boy needs clothes that aren't pastel and you need to keep as many Galleons in your pocket as you can. Your house needs to be finished and furnished before he's born._

That left Ginny only six weeks. Six weeks until her trial was finally over and a week after that her son would be here. Hadn't it been June only a few days ago, when she stared down disbelievingly into that tiny cauldron and watched before her eyes as the potion changed colors and her whole life changed along with it? That's what it felt like to her. Now, in less than two months, she'd be holding her child. There were huge parts of her—for example, her empty arms, her heart, and her aching body—that couldn't wait for that moment; dreamed of it every night and counted the hours during the day to when it would come. There were also other parts that, quite frankly, hoped she could stay pregnant forever. She could protect her child when he was still inside her. She could keep him away from awful things like pain and lies, shelter him from every unkindness and ill thought.

"You know something, Snitch?" Harry asked her stomach. "If I have to read one more editorial from the viewpoint of an arrogant bint like Pressley Edgecombe, who's never played Quidditch a day in her miserable life, I might very well have to go and buy both _Prophets_ so I can fire the idiots who thought this garbage was fit to print. What do you think? Should I go into the newspaper business?" He put his hand on Ginny's stomach and grinned at the kick he received. "Yeah, you're right. Full of leaches and rodents. Plus, I might have to run into Rita Skeeter occasionally. No thank you." Harry went back to his box scores and missed the doting smile Ginny couldn't help but give him.

_On the other hand, there are some good things that my son will be able to experience in this world._

"Well, I will give your Harpies one thing: They sure know how to run up the score. Four hundred and ninety to fifty in a twenty-eight minute game." He whistled. "That's got to be some kind of record."

"It was Wimborne, right?" Harry nodded in the affirmative and Ginny smirked. "That explains it."

"What?"

"Gaia Strauss used to date Wimborne's Keeper, about a year ago. She found out a couple of months into it that his definition of 'exclusive' was something very different from hers. I bet he still has the pustule scars on his arse from the curse she launched at him when she caught him with his pants around his ankles. Ever since then, we gave them everything we had and then some during our matches." She felt Harry's eyes on her and she looked down to find him studying her. "What?"

"You miss it, don't you?"

"Quidditch? Harry, I've already told you I don't want to play any-"

"I know about the long hours playing and the injuries and the traveling. I get why you don't miss that. But you do miss your team, right? I mean, you never even got a proper last game to play with each other and say goodbye."

"No, I didn't," Ginny sighed. "You're right, though. I do miss the girls. It was fun playing on a team where we all went into the same locker room at the end of the match. And there's a part of me that wishes I could have gone out scoring two hundred points in front of a screaming, sold-out crowd instead of cleaning out my locker and shuffling out the back entrance." She shrugged and put her knitting on the crest of her stomach. "It just wasn't in the cards."

"You deserved to take that last lap around the stadium," Harry told her, shifting to put his elbow on the sofa so he could balance his head in his hand. "Being showered with roses and green streamers from all your fans. You earned it, even after only three years."

"Thank you." She struggled to sit up and prop her back against the armrest. "I think I'd settle for trying to buy this sofa off you for my new house. I doubt I'll ever find one I like this much," she told him as she ran her fingers over the lush fabric.

He looked down and nodded, moving back to sit with his back to said sofa. The paper was open and in his lap again before he replied, "Sorry. Can't do that."

"You could at least tell me where you bought it so I can try to play on some poor salesman's sympathies when my trial's over."

"I didn't buy it and I've already told you a thousand times that there's no need to rush out of here when you become a citizen." His eyes stayed resolutely on the page in front of him. "You're more than welcome to stay if you think it'll be too much with the Snitch and getting the new house ready."

Ginny did remember it. She remembered every time he had mentioned the subject in the last month or so, ever since Ron and Hermione had left from their eventful visit in Hastom. It wasn't as if she couldn't see the value in staying with him. The house could be completely finished exactly as she wanted it to be and she wouldn't feel the need to race against the clock ticking down to when her water would break. Taking Harry up on his offer would interfere with her foolproof plan of how to define her relationship with him:

Distance.

As soon as her trial was over, when she wasn't required by the ancient laws of Hastom to be around Harry every single day, she would start to put some distance between them. It did no good to try that now, when they were so intertwined together under the same roof. Ginny was convinced that space away from one another was the solution to sorting through whatever their relationship was becoming. It would give her the chance to prepare fully for what it would entail to be a single mother (something horribly difficult to do when Harry talked to the baby of all the things he would do with the boy when he was finally born) and it would also give Harry the time to do something he had been avoiding for months now: Taking the time to process the break-up with Meredith and plan the next steps in his life. He had used helping Ginny and her son as a distraction from that for too long, in her opinion, and when Ginny had finally moved out, Harry would have the chance to properly sort through his feelings on the last few months.

_Maybe his feelings are already sorted out_, a lone voice cried out from deep in her heart. _Maybe he knows exactly what he wants with his life from here on out. Maybe __**you**__ just have a problem seeing that…_

It would be so easy to give into that pesky lone voice that had become so insistent over the past weeks. So easy to take all of the moments between her and Harry that she had spent the past months analyzing and overanalyzing and see what others claimed was obvious to even the deaf, dumb, and blind. Every time the urge to do so arose, another voice—much louder and sounding much more practical—posed one simple question:

Why hadn't Harry said anything?

If he still somehow, unfathomably cared for her in the way she did for him, then why hadn't he said something since she had been here? It wasn't something he had ever had difficulty with before. When they were together as teenagers, he was the first to say the words out loud.

"I love you," he had whispered in her ear one afternoon when they were cuddled together in the deep grass of the Burrow the summer after the war ended. "With everything inside me, Ginny."

Her response had been choked by tears of happiness and guilt. "I love you, too."

He had never had a problem saying the words back then, no matter the situation. Whether they were alone wrapped in an intimate embrace or at the dinner table with a dozen or so of the Weasleys or surrounded by strangers in Diagon Alley, the expression came easily to Harry. She had imagined back then it was almost a novelty to him. He had spent over eleven years of his life never saying or hearing the words from anyone, after all. It must have been liberating in a way to be able to feel such things and share them with the people he loved.

Which brought Ginny back to her original question: If Harry did love her in the way she loved him, why was he hesitating to tell her? The source of her indecision was simple. He'd most likely tell her that he didn't love her. She'd lose him in her life forever that way. She could only come to one conclusion and that was that while Harry cared for her and her child deeply, it wasn't the same as what he had felt years ago. Which she accepted with as much grace and humility as she could manage.

It didn't mean she had to feel good about it.

So distance would be the name of the game when her still-nameless boy came into the world. Harry would see then that it was the best for all three of them.

Wouldn't he?

Ginny picked up her knitting again, resuming her work and their conversation. "I think you have no idea what living with a newborn Weasley would be like. Have my mother tell you some of the stories of how colicky the lot of us were and then you'll be shoving me out that door when my trial ends."

"Whatever you say," he muttered under his breath.

A comment he had made earlier registered. "What did you mean you didn't buy the sofa? There's no chance you found something this nice binned somewhere on the street."

"I didn't."

"Then where did it come from?"

Harry finally closed the paper. "My parents."

That captured her attention. "What do you mean?" she asked, putting her knitting aside.

"After this house was built, I knew I needed to furnish it. There was no chance I was taking anything out of Grimmauld so I went to get some money out of my vault at Gringotts. When they asked why I was making such a large withdrawal, I explained it was for furniture and the goblins told me about another vault my parents had there. It was filled with all of the things they wanted to keep safe when they went into hiding in case…well, in case we were found. Things like family heirlooms, photographs, and their favorite pieces of furniture." He pointed to a picture of James and Lily Potter on the mantelpiece. Harry's late parents were sitting on the same sofa Ginny sat on now. "See?"

"So everything here…?"

"Pretty much came from them." As carefully as she could, she moved to stand up and Harry put a hand on her knee to stop her. "Don't do that, Ginny."

"I wasn't-"

"It's a couch that they thought was cozy. It's not my mum and dad," he told her reassuringly. "You're not lying on top of them or anything. I'm…I'm glad that you like the couch so much."

"Okay," she said and he released her. She slid back to her spot and picked up her knitting once more. The wild feeling that she was sitting on something that Harry's own parents had once sat ran deep. Lily might have even been lying just like Ginny was now when she had been carrying her own son. Wiggling against such a thought, she nudged Harry's shoulder with her foot and held up her yarn. "Hey, what do you think of this?"

He eyed her creation carefully and smiled brightly. "It's lovely. He'll look cute in it."

"So you can tell what it is?"

Harry paused for barely a second. "Yes. Absolutely."

Ginny raised one eyebrow. "What is it then?"

"A hat," he said immediately. She shook her head. "A scarf." Another headshake. "Mittens. Booties. A kilt of some sort?"

"A jumper," she informed him.

"Really? Don't those things usually have…arms of some sort?" She nudged him a bit harder with her foot and he chortled a little. "You know, so the poor child knows what his hands and fingers actually look like."

"It's hard to knit without magic," Ginny whined. She tried to hold in her laughter. "I'd like to see you try."

"Give me a swarm of wannabe Death Eaters any day over knitting duties, thank you very much." He stood up and stretched as he walked towards the kitchen. "I'm starving. Do us a favor: use what little magic you're allowed to and order us a pizza, would you? Want some tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

Harry let out another laugh. "A jumper…"

She watched his back and sighed a little as she set out to add arms to her project.

Distance. The name of the game was distance.

"Wesley?"

"No."

"Jean-Luc?"

"No."

"Geordi. You have to love Geordi."

"I really do not."

"How about Montgomery?"

"No."

"Maybe Pav-"

"Bart, I swear if you suggest another character from _Star Trek_, I will throw something extremely heavy at your head and not miss," Ginny said, glowering at him over the bar. "This is my son's name we are talking about. Not one of your silly little…what the hell do you call those things again?"

"Avatars."

"Yes, one of those. Now, come on, be serious. You more than anyone know what it's like to be saddled with an ungodly first name, Barto-"

He leaned forward and put his finger on her lips. "Not out loud. You know I don't like hearing it out loud."

"Then don't try and make a mockery of your godson's name."

Why couldn't Iris just be accepted as a suitable name for a boy, one that wouldn't cause him to get the mickey taken out of him on a daily basis at school or on the pitch? It would be one less thing to fret over. She had been pouring over baby books for a solid month now and had come up with nothing. The copies of the Weasley and Prewett family trees her father had sent last week hadn't narrowed the search either. Everyone she knew, save for Harry, was proposing new names every day; he simply offered up objections to any name that Ginny thought she could tolerate whenever she ran one by him.

At this rate, her boy really would end up being called Snitch. She was growing desperate at this point. No wonder she had turned to Bart for help.

Ginny leaned away from her boss and turned the wireless radio sitting on the bar louder. One of the crowd's (and her) favorite programs, _Beeter's Breakdown_, was starting soon and she was eager to listen to it in the background of the lunch rush.

"There are some normal names in the Trekkie universe," Bart argued as he filled drinks. "You don't have to completely close the book on the finest that the galaxy has to offer."

A patron signaled for her and she scurried over with her tray. "For instance?" she called back to Bart.

"The name Leonard is in there."

"There are not enough Galleons in the world to make me crazy enough to consider doing that to my child." The familiar opening music of _Breakdown_ began and Ginny tried to keep her ear to it when she went to the bar for refills.

"Well, what about Spock? A mysterious Vulcan from the planet Vulcan who…" Bart trailed off at the sight of Ginny's flared nostrils; mercifully, he was saved from any more of her wrath by the voice coming from the wireless.

"_Welcome everyone to Beeter's Breakdown. I am your host, Bathgate Beeter, and today's subject is one that's sure to ruffle some Hippogriff feathers: The increasing role that witches are playing in modern Quidditch. A sign of progress and equality in professional sports or the imminent demise of the traditional Wizarding family? We'll discuss that today with our guest. She is the esteemed writer of The Daily Prophet's once-popular sport's editorial column, Ms. Pressley Edgecombe._

Ginny fought to keep from groaning out loud. Wonderful, a solid hour of listening to putrid garbage. Maybe she'd be lucky and her old morning sickness would make a reappearance to complete the afternoon. At least she had a decent distraction from it.

"What else do you have?" Ginny asked Bart, tuning out the broadcast as best she could. "For names. Remember, no characters that are evil or perverse in any way."

Bart had to put a solid four or five minutes of thought into that. Ginny returned to her tables and was clear across the room delivering soup when Bart finally answered her. "Look, we're just playing games here. If you want that child to grow up and become the finest captain that Starfleet has to offer, he must only answer to one name."

"And that name is…?"

"Jim." The baby fluttered and Ginny glanced down at her belly. "Or no," Bart continued at once, "because that's really very close to, uh, actually really James and-"

Whatever else he said was lost on Ginny as she succumbed to a series of strong kicks from her son. Her empty tray clattered to the floor and she gripped the corner of the table to keep upright. "Goodness," she breathed. The force of her son's actions nearly took the wind out of her.

A hand took her elbow and helped her stand straight. "Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Whittiere asked.

"Y-Yes," she replied, trembling a little. She could feel no pain from any part of her. The baby had just never kicked her quite that strongly before. "He's…He's just…"

"Getting eager to come out," the kind woman concluded. "Won't be much longer now, I imagine." Ginny merely nodded. "Why don't you take a moment to catch your breath?" Nodding again, she made her way to the back restrooms, keeping her eyes away from Bart as much as possible.

She leaned back against the door of the bathroom once she shut it behind her and stared into her reflection in the small mirror. Rubbing her belly in calming circles, she struggled to relax herself.

_He's just getting ready to be born, that's all. It's getting crowded in there and he's restless. He doesn't know anything going on around him._

A blatant lie if she ever told one, and let's be honest, she had told more than her fair share. Nell had told her dozens of times that babies—especially magical babies—had a strong awareness of the world outside the womb. They responded to sounds, foods, and even certain smells. Not to mention Ginny's own evidence on the subject. The Snitch answered her questions and musings sometimes, twirled happily when she was reading _The Tale of Babbity Rabbity _out loud to him, and kicked in impatience whenever she got stuck listening to Mr. Daddien trying to order something off the menu. He liked when Nell was wearing the perfume that smelled of wildflowers, and he did somersaults whenever Ginny took a bite of Bart's turkey meatloaf. When they had visited, Hermione's lectures on the state of house elf affairs had put him to sleep while Ron's detailed analysis of the Cannon's last five losses must have sent him into hysterics because he hiccupped for almost fifteen minutes straight.

He adored Harry's voice.

She couldn't deny that. Whether it was reading box scores out loud or telling the baby the story of the infamous day at the zoo with the Dursleys, the Snitch couldn't get enough of listening to Harry. He even protested in his own way when he felt he had gone too long without hearing it. One day, he had been particularly quiet. Not a kick or a shift to be felt. Ginny had nearly been in a panic; she had been kneeling down at the fireplace to Floo Nell when it roared to life and Harry's face appeared, asking her if he left his traveling cloak in the kitchen. The baby wiggled around in reply and Ginny had almost fallen into the connection in relief.

Still, that didn't mean that…He couldn't possibly expect her to….

Eager to keep this as inconspicuous as possible, Ginny put her chin down and whispered to her belly, "Jim?"

A bit of fluttering and then nothing more.

"Jamison?"

A hand or perhaps a foot tapped gently before it ceased.

"Jimmy? Jamie? Jammy?"

Silence. No movement at all. Steeling herself, Ginny whispered one more name to her son.

"James?"

The kicks and punches the boy offered this time didn't catch her off guard, but they did take her breath away same as before. She banged her head gently against the wood of the door. Closing her eyes, she whispered in as stern a voice she could muster.

"Young man, I want you to listen to me very closely. I am your mother and I love you more than anything in this life or the next. You will always have food and shelter and warm clothes, as long as I draw breath. The other luxuries in life will be harder to come by, but if I can get them for you, I will. I promise. Now, I know you're probably still a bit put out with me because I thought you were a girl and I called you a frilly name and I bought you all those dresses to wear. That's fine if you're still a bit brassed off. I'll make it up to you somehow. It's just…" She swayed a bit on the balls of her feet as she held her stomach; in a few weeks, she'd be holding her baby when she tried to comfort him this way. "You can't have that name. I'm sorry, but you just can't. That name isn't for you. It's…It's for someone else, an-and no matter how much we both may want that someone to be you, you aren't. Okay?" The baby gave her nothing in return. "None of it is your fault. It's mine and it all happened years before I even knew you were coming into the world. You did nothing wrong, and I promise that I'm going to find a wonderful name for you. The perfect name. You just…You have to have some patience with Mummy right now, luv."

Disappointing her child before he was even born. Ginny was off to a smashing start.

Cleaning herself up, she went back out onto the floor to grab another tray from the bar.

"You good?" Bart asked her carefully.

"I'm fine."

"Okay," he said quietly. "Sorry if I, uh, stepped out of line with the name or anything."

"You didn't."

"I just know that if you went with…a certain name, it might cause some-"

"I said that I'm fine, Bart."

"With the baby, I mean, you have to be careful how you-"

"I know."

"Do you? Do you get what it would mean to Harry if-"

"Switzerland!" Ginny finally hissed at him, fed up. She picked up her tray and turned before she felt Bart's hand wrap around her wrist and force her to sit on one of the barstools.

"Phoebe?" Bart called out. The lithe waitress appeared at once and he handed her Ginny's tray. "Cover Ginny's tables for the next fifteen or twenty minutes and you can take a long lunch later." She nodded in the affirmative and set off. Bart turned back to Ginny. "Sit. Calm down. Don't bite off the heads of the paying customers. Alright?" Ginny nodded sullenly and looked away as Bart moved to the other side of the bar.

"…_really just a gross display of degrading a woman's natural femininity."_

Ginny's ears perked up as the nasally voice of Pressley Edgecombe blared out from the wireless next to her. What on Earth was that moron going on about?

"_Care to explain that rather radical viewpoint, my dear?" Bathgate asked her._

"_The sport of Quidditch today has become nothing more than an attempt to fully integrate the two vastly different sexes into one monosex, right down to even the most basic wardrobe requirements. Witches are not allowed wear hair ornaments during matches nor are they allowed to wear jewelry. They are required to wear long pants during games and cannot choose for themselves to substitute said pants for a more becoming skirt or dress. Not to mention that the game itself does not take into account a witch's inferior physical playing abilities."_

Ginny stared incredulously at the radio. Bart had not picked a good spot for her to sit if his goal had been to calm her down. That bint Edgecombe was actually saying all that rubbish without the barest hint of a laugh in her voice. She was serious.

"_Now, I don't think such a general statement like that is fair to make," Bathgate piped in. "Over the years, many female-"_

"_And over the years, three times as many female players as have had success in the sport have retired early, from injury, lack of skill, or the results of the two mixed together. The rigors of the game are not designed to suit the, frankly, weaker physical statures of most witches. Take Wendalynn Forthing of Portree. You all remember her, don't you? First female member of Portree in over a hundred years. Built significantly smaller than the average Seeker but with quick reflexes and a keen eye for the Snitch. The Pride recruited her straight from Hogwarts and devoted nearly three years and four thousand Galleons into developing her playing so she was fit to fly with the rest of the team. What happened? Six matches in and a Bludger to the shoulder put her out of commission for the rest of the season. She flew on the reserve squad for two years after that but never made a return to the roster. A very expensive investment for Portree down the tubes with only the scantest of returns. All because Ms. Forthing forced nature's hand by playing a position she was not fit for."_

Ginny felt the venom on the tip of her tongue. She shook her head in disgust. Ms. Edgecombe conveniently forgot to mention the fact that Wendalynn was kept off the field after her recruitment for so long because she had refused to sleep with the team's coach nor was there any mention that the healer who had first treated the poor woman after her injury had improperly diagnosed her with a torn rotator cuff that had required months of treatment before the error was discovered. It was too late at that point; Wendalynn's eyesight had been damaged by one of the potions she had been prescribed and the effects were irreversible, no matter how many healers she consulted or how long she tried to reprogram her body to cooperate with her competitive drive. Gwenog and Wendalynn were old friends and Wendalynn herself had spoken with many of the Harpies, including Ginny, about the true hardships women in Quidditch faced.

Something the "esteemed" Pressley Edgecombe knew nothing about.

"_I believe," Bathgate said seriously after Pressley's rant, "that we are going to be taking some calls from some very disgruntled fans and players alike in a few moments. Are you prepared to handle the fiery flames coming your way?"_

"_Of course," Pressley replied haughtily. "Bathy, I don't feel anger at those who question such facts. On the contrary, I feel rather sorry for them. Young witches today are being brought up to believe that they are equal in every way to wizards and that is just not the case, especially in Quidditch. The game since its creation has favored the male population and the modern touches to it have only tipped that balance further. With the excuse of long seasons or games or their travel schedules, most witches do not put in the simple effort needed to maintain a stable home life as well as taking a quick toll on the body. For witches in Quidditch, there are only two clear paths: Those like Gwenog Jones, who have forgone any semblance of family in favor of a long career or that of her protégé, Ginny Weasley, a bright star who burned out every hint of her potential in only three years. I think that…"_

Whatever else Pressley had felt the need to drone on about was lost on Ginny in haze of white rage. Her hands trembling, she reached into her apron and pulled out her long-dormant wand. She pressed the tip of it to the wireless and mumbled an incantation mutely. Her wand tip glowed light blue and she placed it near the corner of her mouth, waiting quietly while the clamor in her head screamed and seethed.

A few minutes later, she heard Bathgate speak again.

"_It, uh, seems we are going to be taking on some of those flames a little earlier than we expected. I've just been handed a note that says we have our first listener on the line to respond and it is none other than Ginny Weasley herself."_

The Falcon ceased movement and she felt the eyes of every patron on the back of her neck. She paid them all no mind.

"Yes, this is Ginny Weasley," she spoke into her wand tip. "The same Ginny Weasley that retired as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies four months ago."

"_I must say that it is quite an honor to have you on the show, Ms. Weasley, and I have-"_

"Well, I wish I could say it was an honor in return, Bathgate, but I'm afraid I find nothing honorable about having to call into a radio program to simply dispute the outlandish and frankly dangerous observations of one remarkably dim witch."

"_Excuse me? I will not be call-"_

"You will be called such things, Ms. Edgecombe, because that is exactly what you are! You are a Quidditch reporter who has never played in one game yet you feel the irrepressible need to criticize and demean players who've worked harder than you will ever know to get where they are in the game! How on Earth did you even get the job to begin with? Were they just pulling random names out of a hat at the offices of _The Daily Prophet_ that day? Or did you earn the right to put your name under the byline by simply using your mou-?"

"_Ms. Weasley, if I may remind you this is being broadcast during the daytime and if you could keep your comments strictly-"_

"Bathgate, I apologize sincerely for my crudeness. It's born of nothing more than frustration and anger from listening to your guest. Ms. Edgecombe, have you any idea how many hours of training it takes to get into shape to be on the pitch, for witches and wizards alike?"

"_I've been told that-"_

"Oh, you've been told, have you? Well, I can tell you something for certain: It takes approximately four to six hours of training a **day** to stay at top form in professional Quidditch. Even if you take weekends off, which many players don't, that's up to thirty hours a week on practice alone! Still think it would be a case of using a little effort to find time for a happy home life?"

"_That isn't what I-"_

"And on your ridiculous assertion that witches are being stifled in their fashion choices on the pitch, have you ever tried to fly in Ireland in the dead of winter without wearing pants? Even with Warming Charms, that doesn't do a thing to protect one's skin from frostbite. As for the lovely little hair ornaments argument, if you take a Bludger to the skull and that Bludger happens to hit a barrette, that cute little hairpiece will be lodged so deep in your skull, you'll be able to wear it as an earring on the other side of your head! The fashion restrictions are in place because our safety is the priority, not how pretty we look to the spectators!"

"_I don't think-"_

"We finally agree on something, Pressley: You don't think!" Ginny got up from the stool and began pacing around the room, oblivious to all. "You don't think about how much witches in the sport struggle with the decision of whether or not to keep playing another year versus having children or marrying their boyfriends! You don't think at all about how long some witches search for a healer that will finally tell them they can find a way to get back on the pitch after having their spine almost shattered to dust from a thirty-foot drop! You don't think of the shame a witch can feel after she has to ask her parents for rent money because she risks her limbs playing a sport that won't even pay her an entry-level Ministry salary! And you most certainly do not think about how lucky you know you were that even for a short time, you got to bleed Harpies' green surrounded by some of the finest witches to ever climb onto a broom! I may have left the game too early, but I left in my prime and on my own terms, a luxury few witches in Quidditch are afforded. So in the end, Ms. Edgecombe, I suppose I'm not angry at you; I just feel sorry for you!" Ginny murmured the incantation to break the wireless connection and stuffed her wand back into her apron with a huff. She turned and nearly jumped in fright.

The entire pub was staring at her in awe. Ginny swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. She opened her mouth to apologize for disturbing everyone's meal when every man and woman in the Falcon broke out into applause, whooping and whistling and pounding on the tabletops with glee.

Bart leaped over the bar and raced over to her side, raising her arm in victory. "I hired her here!" Bart shouted to the pub at large. "She works here because of me! Stanwick Orson only wishes he could find waitresses like her for his restaurant! Klaus, get your big German behind over here. This witch deserves a celebratory lap!" To her amusement, Klaus appeared at her other side and he and Bart boosted Ginny onto their shoulders, parading her around to her admirers. The group only made it ten steps or so before Bart grunted and set her down as gently as he could. "Okay, okay. Bad idea with a woman almost eight months pregnant."

Ginny was too overcome to even move to punch him in the gut for such cheek. If she shut her eyes, with the crowd cheering around her, the high she felt coursing through her made her feel like she was soaring around the stadium once more.

As Christmas began its steady approach in December, Ginny's world was a flurry of baby odds and ends, child birthing and infant care classes with Nell, and piles upon piles of letters from Quidditch fans all over Great Britain.

Hours after her broadcasted rant aired, the postmaster, Mr. Geloff, had stopped her on her way home from work to ask her what she wanted to do with all of the letters they had received. Ginny was amazed to see three huge bins full of mail trailing behind him.

"Can't you just shrink them down so they're easier to move?" Ginny had asked.

Mr. Geloff shrugged his shoulders. "We did already. This is the result. I don't think my mailroom has ever been busier."

It had taken the combined efforts of Ginny, Harry, Nell, and Bart to open all of the letters that poured into Hastom over the next three days. They ranged from children's drawings and requests for autographs to ten-page letters detailing the agonies some witches had faced trying their best to break into the male-dominated sport of Quidditch, only to be thwarted at almost every turn. Her emotions already frayed, these letters sparked Ginny's anger at the officials, team owners, staff, and (to her dismay) the players who put so much effort into keeping the sport strictly a boy's club. However, they didn't flummox her the most.

The job offers did.

_Witch Weekly_ and _Quidditch Quarterly _had both sent detailed contracts for positions on their writing staffs; in addition to all three wireless sport's broadcasting networks submitting proposals to have her join their team as on-air talent. A few of the teams even offered her positions in the coaching and publicity departments. The only one of these she looked at seriously, though, came from the Harpies. The amount of Galleons they were all offering was staggering; even at the lowest-paying job, she'd earn more with one paycheck than she had in half a year's time playing Quidditch.

"I don't understand any of this," she said one evening to the group. The piles of mail threatened to overtake the living room, but Ginny was adamant that she read every piece that someone had taken the trouble to send in. "I'm not a writer or a public speaker. Why do they think I can do all these things?"

"Because you can," Nell chimed in. She was organizing the letters that contained marriage proposals from the ones asking for topless photographs. They had both decided early on it best to keep those from Harry and Bart's eyes. "They're not asking you to write a work of fiction or to act in a play. All they want is for you to give your opinion on the subject of Quidditch, like you did on the wireless."

"People call into wireless programs all the time and don't get this kind of response."

"Because most of those people who call have no experience to back their opinions up," Nell told her for what felt like the hundredth time. "You do. And let us not forget how popular you were when you left the game."

"I wasn't that-"

"You played on a World Cup team your first year in the league, for goodness sakes! When they visited, Ron told me your rookie jersey sold out faster than any other Harpy before you and that fans would wait outside the locker room for hours to get a picture with you! Don't tell me you never noticed any of that?"

Ginny lowered her head and went back to sorting. Everything Nell said was true. Ginny had just been so caught up in first the misery of being without Harry and then in the frenzy that was being with Lionel that she had never taken the time to appreciate it.

"It was…just a blur really," she replied, glancing covertly at Harry sitting across the room. "One game to the next and then one season to another. I never really had a chance to notice anything."

"Well, now you do. So sit back, enjoy it, and find the best way to make the most loot out of this whole thing." Nell winked. "Remember what I told you the average cost of nappies is in the first year?"

She consulted with Hermione via the Floo on negotiating the cost of Ginny's services, having seen her friend's prowess for it herself. For the cost of twenty Knuts, Hermione Granger officially became her legal adviser and began filtering through all of the job offers and endorsements that Ginny found coming her way. Some of them she rejected straight away. As much as she would have loved to have been a part of the Harpies organization once more, the amount of travel it would require wouldn't work once the baby arrived. A few of the offers, like the ones from the magazines, looked promising, but Ginny was familiar with the sport's staff on both _Witch Weekly_ and _Quidditch Quarterly_ and didn't want to see anyone on either of them lose a job because she was the flavor of the month. The one instruction she gave to Hermione in regards to speaking with the various organizations was to keep her pregnancy a secret. That was certainly something she didn't want splashed all over the gossip pages when she was trying to find gainful employment. If they wanted to know why they weren't speaking to Ginny directly, she was traveling at the moment and did not wish to deal with the media onslaught her appearance would cause.

Finally, after an evening at the pub where she spent more time debating with the customers about the pay structure on most teams than serving drinks to them, she came home to find Harry sitting on the sofa, waiting for her with a letter in his hand.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, taking the letter. It was thick, whatever it was. Thick meant something important.

Harry only smiled mysteriously as he stood and put his hands in his pockets.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Did you look at it already? Do you know what's in here?"

All he said was, "Open it, Gin."

In her haste, she shredded the envelope before looking at the return address. Inside was a contract almost an inch tall with a single scroll attached to it, the heading on top of which read:

**Offices of Barnabas Cuffe, Editor of **_**The Daily Prophet**_

"No!" Ginny gasped in shock. "He's not…?"

"Keep going," Harry urged her on.

Ginny took the scroll in shaky hands and read out loud, "After taking the time to reevaluate the staff of our sport's department…Pressley Edgecombe is no longer affiliated with…feel it's time for a change in both the reporting and editorial sections…highly impressed with the public's response to your recent comments…I would like to offer you the job of-AAHH! Harry, I can't believe this!" Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck. He caught her easily and pulled her tight against his chest. "Is this really happening?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Yeah," he replied, rocking her a little. "It really is."

"How did you know the paper was going to do this?"

"I was the blind source once for a reporter on a story about conditions in Azkaban. He told me this morning. I wanted to surprise you with it."

"You did! I just…I can't believe that this…I've been so worried about how I was going to support the baby all by myself and now…" Ginny squeezed closer to him, closing her eyes and reveling in the feel of him. Was a person allowed this much happiness in a single day? It seemed like too much fortune for only one soul. "Thank you."

Perhaps it was too much because Harry immediately pulled away and started walking backwards to the stairs. "I'll, uh, I'll Floo Hermione. She'll be happy to hear you finally picked something." His feet were at the top of the stairs when he called back down, "Congratulations, Gin."

The Snitch tapped gently against her womb and she splayed her hand over her belly.

"What did you do?" he seemed to be asking.

"I don't know," Ginny whispered to him.

She didn't have time to dwell on much the peaks and chasms of her personal life as they moved through December. If she wasn't going over the contract proposals Hermione kept owling to her, she was educating herself on the new faces that had cropped up in Quidditch in her absence, or honing her writing skills in anticipation of her first assignment. Hermione had already negotiated that Ginny would begin by writing editorial features for the first six months of her employment before she began to cover the actual games as well. Ostensibly, it was for Ginny to see if writing full-time was something she had a passion for when in reality it was to give her time for her trial to be completed, as well as giving her time with the baby when he was born.

It wasn't going to be able to work like this forever. Someday, sooner than she'd like, she'd have to let the world know of her son. It wouldn't be fair to keep lying to her new employers, but most of all, it wasn't fair to her boy. She wasn't ashamed of him; quite the opposite, in fact. But the longer she kept him closer to her, the longer she could keep the world from judging both him and her.

At least as long as they were nestled in the borders of Hastom, they were spared such nonsense. Here, there was friendship instead of cruel looks and warm greetings instead of malicious whispers. True, there were some who still viewed her situation with disapproval, but in just a few weeks' time, she and her son would be citizens, officially. In Hastom, citizen was akin to saying family.

Family took care of one another.

Especially during the holidays.

"Just a little more stuffing and you'll be all set," Ginny told Bart in the backroom of the Falcon the first Saturday in December. The Yank had volunteered to don the bright red sui of Father Christmas t for the weekend's holiday festivities, and Ginny was helping him get ready.

"I still think the job should have gone to you," Bart joked. "You definitely have the figure for it." Ginny said nothing, just took the long white beard and snapped it sharply into place on Bart's face. "Ouch! Okay, sorry. No more fat jokes today."

"Thank you."

"And thank you. For staying on at the pub even though you've become this big Quidditch rock star. I appreciate it. Christmas is one of our busiest times of the year and it would have been hard to replace you. It **will** be hard to replace you when you finally go."

Ginny sniffed and buttoned up Bart's jacket. "I'll miss it here, too. Sometimes. Occasionally. Never during the Friday night dinner rush."

"Well, when you can again, you'll always drink free here."

"Really?" Carefully, she placed the wig and red hat over his head. Father Christmas stood in front of her and she gave him a big hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, "and you do realize by 'drink' I meant water, right? All the free water you want."

_Fred would have loved him_, Ginny couldn't help but think.

Instead of giving into the melancholy, she drew back and led him out to the pub. "Come on," she told him. "Lots of people besides your wife that want to sit on your lap today."

They had barely made it onto the street outside before a swarm of tiny bodies descended on them through the scattering of snowflakes falling from the sky. Curiously, they all bypassed Bart, who had a sack of presents slung over his shoulder, and instead made a beeline for Ginny.

"Coach Weasley!"

"You did it!"

"I can't believe you won!"

"You beat Wood! He's the best Keeper in the world!"

"Are you going to the ceremony?"

"Can you take me?"

"Can we all go? We'll be good!"

"Guys, guys, step back! Give your coach some room," Bart tried to command before he caught himself. "I mean…Ho, ho, ho! What is-?"

"GINNY!" Nell shrieked as she raced towards them. Her hair was completely askew and she didn't even have a cloak on over her healer's robes. "I just heard! This is unbelievable! Well, not unbelievable because you're so fabulous and talented, but because-"

"EVERYBODY STOP!" Ginny shouted. Not only did the children and her friend back away, but everyone on the busy street paused in whatever they were doing to look at her. Ignoring them to address her young team, "What are you all going on about? I won something?"

Nell squealed loudly before any of the kids could. She took Ginny's hands and started dancing the two of them around in a circle. "Do you know what I'm doing right now?"

"Making a pregnant woman dizzy?"

"That, and talking to the Most Valuable Player in the entire Quidditch League of Great Britain for this year, as voted on by the fans! They just announced it over the wireless!"

"What?"

"You won! You won, you won, you won, you won!" All of them, Bart and Nell as well the children, crowded around her in a giant hug.

Ginny was dizzy and it wasn't just from all the turning and the suffocating pudgy arms wrapping around her waist. It was unbelievable, no matter what Nell had said. Barely two weeks ago, she had been a waitress at a pub in a small, secluded village and today, she was apparently the toast of the Quidditch world. She could remember being a little girl and listening to Quidditch on the wireless with her brothers and watching them fly around the pitch at Hogwarts or on the paddock. All she could think then was how much fun it would be to be a part of a team. There were no illusions about shining brightest or stepping onto center stage. Even as a Harpy, all she had wanted was to win the League Cup with all her girls.

Now she was shining brightest and in the center of the stage. And she was ecstatic. Not for herself, but for her unborn son. Because someday she'd get to pull out a picture and point to it, telling him that his Mummy had been a great Quidditch player once; she'd even won an award. He'd be proud of her for that.

So maybe it was a little bit for herself.

"They're going to give you a plaque at a banquet! They'll probably even give you cake!" One of the kids chimed in. "You'll get to go to London and…"

Ginny's smile faltered just a touch hearing those words, and she looked to Nell for confirmation. The healer kept grinning but shook her head slightly, and Ginny came back down to Earth.

No, Ginny wouldn't be going to London. The awards ceremony for the end of the season was always held right before Christmas. Her trial wouldn't be over by then. An award wasn't a medical emergency for herself or a relative. There was no way she'd be able to go. A pretty plaque wasn't worth losing her home over. She'd simply send a letter of thanks to be read in her honor.

Still, to be able to have attended and see the faces of some of her former competitors as she accepted such a coveted award after being absent for half the season…It would've been delicious. As would seeing most of her former teammates again. And the established Quidditch press that she had just managed to turn on its ear. And maybe even Pressley Edgecombe, if she had been able to find a way to sneak in.

_Now, now. No need to be petty. You're the winner here, remember?_

The fact that Father Christmas was standing next to Ginny finally sunk in with the children n and they dragged him away, leaving Ginny and Nell alone.

"I'm sorry," Nell told her, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"It's alright. Really, it is."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Ginny proclaimed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "It would be too much of a hassle, to be honest. I mean, can you imagine trying to find an evening gown or dress robes that would fit me now? Plus heels and nylons?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No thank you."

_And I can keep the baby a secret for just a little awhile longer_, she thought to herself.

"I'm sure they'll make an announcement or something tonight at the town hall meeting," Nell said. "We're not as glitzy here, but we make do." She leaned in and pecked Ginny's cheek, jogging back towards her office after she did. "I have to run, I left an old man completely immobilized to set a leg fracture so I could come and tell you and-oh!" Nell smacked herself on the forehead. "Harry says congratulations as well!"

"He knows?"

"He was the one who ran into my office to tell me. Don't know where he ran off to after that. See you tonight!" Nell headed away and Ginny took a few seconds to compose herself before going to corral the children that were practically climbing Bart's neck.

All throughout the day and into the evening, even as she entered the meeting hall that night, Ginny was inundated with well-wishes and congratulations on her win. Senor Batista kept her at his side for nearly twenty minutes as he spoke to his family in Spanish, apparently being very flattering to her. Maybe she wouldn't get to go to London to be the star of modern Quidditch; at least she could be the star of Hastom for one night.

"You'd think no one here ever won a silly award before," Ginny whispered to Nell as they and the rest of the village took their seats on the crowded benches. Her cheeks felt as if they'd have a permanent stain of red upon them from all the unnecessary adoration of the day.

"Everyone is just very happy for you and proud. You're a citizen, after all."

"Not yet I'm not! No jinxing, remember?"

"It's impossible to jinx a sure thing," Bart added. Ginny was spared from having to rebuke him when the main doors closed slowly and the candles in the room brightened to almost white. The side door of the hall opened, and the four Council members entered the room, taking their seats in the center.

Sapien opened his mouth to speak as he looked around the many faces before him. His lips moved silently and his eyes shut tight in concentration.

Finally, he asked, "Where is Citizen Potter?"

The room broke out into whispers and murmurs, heads swiveling to check and recheck for the familiar mop of unruly black mess. Ginny's hands became moist with nerves. Citizens always attended meetings. It was the law, an unbreakable law. Harry knew this well. They all did.

Before true panic could set in, she and several others jumped and clutched their chests when a loud banging sounded from the locked main doors. Sapien waved his hand and the door opened to reveal a flustered, red-faced Harry with fresh snow clinging to his wet hair as he made his way through the masses to stand before the Council members.

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said breathlessly, stepping up to the railing that housed the Council inside it. In his hands was a weathered-looking scroll.

"Are you injured, Citizen Potter?" Councilwoman Elton asked. "Do you require medical assistance of some kind?"

"No, ma'am. I'm not hurt at all. I just…got caught up in trying to find some information from the town's records in the library and I lost track of time."

"You do realize you will face repercussions for being late to a town meeting?" Sapien asked.

Harry nodded stoically. "I do, sir. I broke a law. It's only fair."

"Very well," Councilman Martell said, scratching his fat belly beneath his blue robes. "You will spend three hours next Saturday attending to the horse stables. Without magic, of course."

"Yes, sir."

"Am I correct in concluding that this information you were gathering is relevant to the village in some way?" Sapien asked. "Something that you wanted to discuss tonight?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. Catching Ginny's eye, he gave her a quick wink before addressing the Council once more. "I'm sure everyone here is aware that today Ginny Weasley was awarded a great honor in the sport of Quidditch." He held his hand out to her and the entire hall broke out into applause. She squirmed a bit in her seat but couldn't take her eyes off of Harry.

_What is he up to?_

"And what does Prospect Weasley's honor have to do with your lateness?" Councilwoman Lyonne asked in her delicate French purr.

"The award she will receive is being presented in London next week, before the holidays." He paused for a breath. "I'm here tonight to seek the Council's permission to let her attend the event." The villagers didn't bother with whispers this time; now, they erupted into full-blown conversations, with raised voices and looks of disbelief. Ginny herself would've joined them if she didn't feel so utterly blindsided.

_THAT? THAT is what he's up to?_

Whatever notions she had had earlier in the day about how much fun she'd have being the belle of the ball had faded into oblivion when the complications of such a situation had arose. She was supposed to…what, exactly? Show up in the middle of London, in a sea of press and cameras, with a belly the size of two Quaffles and no ring? There were single witches all over the world, but that didn't mean that society wanted them flaunted out in public in a ball gown at such a high-profile event. She'd be vilified and crucified all at once. Whatever goodwill she had cultivated over the past few weeks would vanish into thin air, and the job offers would follow it. No, that couldn't happen. Surely Harry realized that. He wasn't an idiot.

Although, he was the same man who had willingly let his pregnant ex-girlfriend move in with him.

Maybe a visit to St. Mungo's was in order.

Leaning forward in her seat, Ginny tried to get Harry's attention, clinging to the railing for support. "Harry!" she hissed. "Harry, look at me!"

He did just that, grinning widely. "It'll be fine. Trust me."

"That isn't the point! I don't wa-"

"Trust me," he said again, laying his hand over hers and squeezing. His touch numbed her senses, and she helplessly fell back in her seat. How could she hope to argue when he looked at her like that?

As they were speaking, Sapien got the rest of the room in order. When there was silence once more, he turned back to Harry. "Citizen Potter, I appreciate, as does everyone here that you care deeply for Prospect Weasley. However, as she has not yet completed her trial period, then-"

"She is unable to travel outside of Hastom, unless for a life-threatening medical condition of herself or someone in her family or a death in her family," Harry finished.

"Yes, that is correct."

"And those are only two reasons she would be allowed to leave?"

"Yes."

Harry's green eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Are you certain?"

Sapien blinked once. There was dead silence in the room. He edged closer in his seat and glanced at the scroll in Harry's hand. "Do you possess information," he began slowly, "that would contradict that provision?"

He nodded, unable or unwilling to keep the smirk off his face. "I do." He held out the scroll for Sapien to take. "In 1501, Cranston Yewen was in the fourth month of his trial when the Council of Hastom at the time voted to allow him to leave for one evening to accept a prestigious award, as long as he was accompanied by the people fostering him. If the Council permits it, I would be more than happy to escort Ginny into London for the evening of the ceremony."

The town elder carefully read the scroll from Harry before passing it along to his left. "The award the late Citizen Yewen received was the Order of Merlin, First Class," Sapien said. "Are you equating an award given to a select few valiant wizards and witches who have risked their lives in the service of others to one award given yearly to an athlete in a popular sport?"

"I won't try to diminish the work of others before or after me who were granted the honor, especially since a few of them are good friends of mine," Harry replied. "I will say that I received my Order before I even held my first job. With everything I had to go through to earn it, I can tell you I might very well have been tempted to take an MVP over it."

"Surely you see that we don't mean to-"

"I understand what you're saying and I respect that you think that something like an Order of Merlin trumps an award in Quidditch. That's a reasonable position to take. The only thing that keeps coming to my mind is that I was forced, at a young age, to fight for my own life and the lives of others. For almost seven years, I lived with the threat of impending doom hanging over me and the people I loved. Constantly. One of the few escapes I had from all of that was playing Quidditch. Being a Seeker didn't help me to defeat Voldermort." There were some shudders and gasps throughout the room, but Ginny kept her eyes on Harry. "Some might even say it was distraction. It was a good distraction, though. It helped me remember that I was still a kid, that there were still things in this world that made me laugh and made me happy. When I was playing, no one in the stands or on my team wanted me to defeat a dark and evil wizard; they just wanted me to catch a Snitch. Those were some of the only times when I was just a kid named Harry with a funny-looking scar on his forehead. I…I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have an escape like that.

"That's what Quidditch is for a lot of people out there: an escape. Be it from unhappy home lives or stressful jobs or terrible illnesses, Quidditch is something that lets them pretend the only thing that matters is the score of the game. Not only that, it's something that unites us all together. Other people in the world may read from different spell books than us or use different wands, but when we're all watching a game together, we cheer for the same things and yell the same curse words at the officials, albeit in different tongues." Harry let the laughter dim before he continued, "Quidditch will never stop a Killing Curse or feed a starving population or develop potions that heal the Earth. It will never save anyone's life. What it can do is remind of us all of the good that there is in this world: Hard work, sportsmanship, team play, and above all, fun. It's what Coach Weasley and I have both tried to instill in our players this season about the game. Let the woman who's been helping to teach the young sons and daughters of Hastom such values be recognized for all she gave to the sport of Quidditch and all she'll offer it in the years to come."

Ginny heard everything that came in the next hour or so as if she were floating underwater. It was murky and echoing all at once. There was applause and congratulations and a quick series of yeas all over the room. People patted her back and hugged her and kissed her cheeks for good luck. There were offers of dresses and advice on how to style her hair and promises of fine jewelry to loan for the evening of her awards ceremony. None of it reached her fully. Only one thing was on her mind:

Killing Harry Potter.

Oh, true. Many had tried before her, but none of them possessed Ginny's resolve and know-how. She could succeed where other Dark Wizards before her had failed for years.

"Well," Harry said after he closed their front door and they were safely enclosed in the living room alone, "aren't you excited? You get to go after all. I didn't want to say anything to Nell when I saw her before so you wouldn't get your hope-"

She couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, she fired it straight at his head. The force and shock of the blow knocked him to the ground. "YOU ARSEHOLE!" Ginny screeched. She would always be a Harpy, through and through. "HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A THING?"

Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and gaped at her; his glasses were lying next to him, and he squinted to keep her heaving form in focus. "What…I don't…," he blubbered. "HUH?"

"Did you actually think that I even wanted to go to that stupid ball? Did you?"

"Um, okay. Let me think for a moment…YES! YES, I DID!" He got up on his feet and righted his glasses, striding over to her.

"Why didn't you bother to ask me?"

"I didn't think that-!"

"Oh, how nice it must be for you! Not having to THINK at all!" She grabbed another pillow from the couch and started hitting him with it. She managed to get some good swipes in to his shoulder and chest before he snatched it away from her and threw it behind him.

"Why? Tell me that! Why wouldn't you want to go there and shove it in everyone's faces that even off the pitch, you're still one of the most important people in the game of Quidditch? Why not?"

"BECAUSE THEY'RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT **HIM** ALL NIGHT!"

"WHO?"

There was nothing in the world that would stop her tears. "My bastard son," she whispered painfully. Harry's face froze in shock, and she sunk into one of the armchairs. Her voice was ragged as she continued, "Everyone in that room will see him inside me and then they'll check my left hand. They'll see how naked my ring finger is and they'll…"She scoffed bitterly and held her stomach. "I kn-know someday he'll hear those things about him and see the looks some stupid people will throw at him. Especially when he goes off to school by himself. He just shouldn't have to…not now. Not so young." She struggled to control her breathing and felt her baby nudging underneath her palms. "I'll protect him from all of that foolishness as long as I possibly can. If that means hiding out here in Hastom for a good long while, then so be it."

Harry waited until her sobs were under control before he kneeled down in front of her and made her eyes meet his. "First of all," he began, "I don't ever want you call the Snitch…that again. Even as a joke. That word is **not** who he is and I won't stand for hearing it in my presence. From anyone. Especially you. Okay?" Ginny nodded jerkily and Harry's face softened. "I truly didn't know you felt that way about going, and I'm sorry I didn't take the time to talk to you earlier about it. I've just, I've seen how much you've given up over the past months, and I wanted you to get something for a change. Something you earned and deserved." She turned away in shame; she doubted if she'd ever feel deserving of his goodness. Gently, he took her chin in his hand, keeping her face level with his. "Look, if you really don't want to go, that's fine. I understand. But if the only reason you don't want to go is because you don't want people to know about the baby, then we can figure out a way around that."

"H-How?"

The grin that nearly split his face in two warmed Ginny's heart, as well as some other parts of her body. "I know you haven't used a lot of it lately, but there's this remarkable thing that some folks call 'magic'. It really helps make life a bit easier." She could only smile weakly in return.

And that was how, the following Sunday, Ginny found herself at Harry's side in the back entrance of Harrison Rowe's mansion, the location of the ball that year. The empire-waist gown she wore matched perfectly to Harry's black Muggle tuxedo and the billowing satin wrap that snaked over upper arms to her midsection.

"Are you positive this thing will work?" Ginny whispered behind her shoulder to Nell. Both she and Bart were trailing behind Harry and Ginny in the empty hallway. Harry had used some of his influence in the Ministry to allow for their inconspicuous entrance. She was grateful for it; no doubt, if she had been forced to walk a press gauntlet to arrive at the ball, her courage would've disappeared at the first light bulb flash.

"I've told you a hundred times," Nell replied. "The fabric of your wrap is designed to conceal anything or anyone you want to keep hidden. My mum used one just like this at her wedding reception, only it was white and hiding me. They've been very popular the last two centuries. To everyone who will look at you tonight, you'll look like a size two. I promise."

"Okay," Ginny said quietly. They arrived at the party's entrance, music and laughter drifting past the barrier of the double doors.

_You deserve this_, Ginny told herself, leaving no room for doubt to arrive. _You completely deserve to be here tonight. So go inside and enjoy it._

How curious that the voice in her head sounded so very much like Harry.

The attendants at the door smiled at the group as they opened the door for them; thankfully, their eyes did not linger on Ginny's stomach, and she felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate a bit.

"You look beautiful, Ginny," Harry whispered in her ear. "It's your night." It probably would've been polite to say something to him in return, yet with the eyes of over two hundred people on her, etiquette escaped her.

Bart's hand on her back pushed her forward a step or two ahead of everyone else; the second she did, the entire ballroom seemed to burst into applause. Wreaths and garland hung on the walls, and the various tables all sported the colors of different teams. Suddenly, she was thrust all alone into a sea of well-wishers and admirers, some only that way because politeness dictated they needed be. The editors of all the major publications pulled in close for pictures, some using the photo-ops as a last minute appeal for her services on their staff.

Barnabas Cuffe took around the entire room, a collector proudly showing off his latest prize, the champagne glass in his hand refilling far too often for Ginny's liking, given how boisterous he was in his bragging. With every stop they made, she searched for Harry, Bart, and Nell but couldn't spot any of them. She was saved from the exhibition by her former teammates, pulling her in for congratulatory hugs and not letting her out of their circle for almost a full hour. Anyone who tried to intrude on them was given a cold stare and, if needed, a disparaging remark or two about someone's recent play on the pitch. The Kenmare Chasers were the only ones who seemed to take real offense to it; Ginny spotted them huddled over in their own corner away from everyone else soon after.

"Steer clear of them tonight," Gwenog advised seriously. "Rumor has it Brendon Garring's locker was in dire need of a _Reparo_ spell after he heard you beat him for MVP."

"Really? You know what I heard? That you lot leave my locker as some sort of shrine to me." Ginny ribbed her old coach. "Miss me that much, huh?"

"No," Gwenog replied, "just leaving it ready to go for when your sprog joins the team in about eighteen years." She and a few other players poked Ginny's belly and she swatted all their hands away, glancing around furiously.

"None of that! I'm not telling anyone yet!" Ginny stared daggers at Gwenog. "Why did you tell them?"

The best Beater in the game took Ginny's face in her hands and smashed it a little. "We're an all-female team, and most of us are good at math. It's been the worst kept secret in our locker room in addition to being the best kept secret in all of Quidditch. A nifty feat, if you ask me."

"Thank you," Ginny whispered. "And by the way, it's a boy." The group descended into soft sighs and coos. Someone behind them clearing his throat loudly broke the hormone-induced spell.

Harry smiled happily at her and extended his hand. "Can I steal the former Chaser away from you?" He asked Gwenog.

"Only if you take care to bring her back without any scratches," she replied, half-serious. Ginny bid the girls goodbye and took Harry's hand. A knot in her chest she hadn't even realized was there loosened when her hand slid into his.

She had missed him.

The Snitch gave a few little pokes as well. Fine, they both had missed him.

All through the night she had been among a crowd of people and she hadn't realized until she was with Harry again how much she had been craving him. His touch, his scent, the feeling of peace she always felt near him, even when they wanted to hack each other's heads off at times.

She had only been away from him for an hour or so and she had missed him.

The band on stage started playing a slow melody and Harry licked his lips. "Can I claim the first dance with this year's MVP."

"You may," Ginny heard herself say softly. There was no shade to properly describe his eyes right now. Emerald, certainly, but there was something else glowing in them tonight as well. Something…

Harry stopped her ponderings as he tucked her as close to him as he could, one hand holding hers and the other wrapped around her waist. She couldn't look away from his eyes as the music started. She hardly heard the song's words over the over the drumming of her heart.

_You're in my arms  
>And all the world is calm<br>The music playing on for only two_

"I'm glad you talked to the Council. I'm glad we're here."

"Me too."

"Thank you," she whispered to him. "For tonight. You went to so much trouble just so I could wear a pretty dress and be showered with praise."

"It was no trouble," Harry said in kind. "No trouble at all."

_So close together  
>And when I'm with you<br>So close to feeling alive_

It was true. All those years apart, she had been alive only in purely the most basic sense: She breathed, she ate, she slept, and occasionally she found pockets of joy to latch onto, to make the days bearable. But she hadn't been alive. Not by a longshot.

Now she was again.

Life was beautiful to her once more. The dull grays and beiges had given way to vibrant bursts of color. She was no longer waiting blindly for someone to tell her that she was enjoying herself. There wasn't a need for it anymore. She knew when she was happy now.

And there was nowhere she felt it more than in Harry's arms. __

_A life goes by  
>Romantic dreams will stop<br>So I bid mine goodbye and never knew  
><em>

"Why did you do all this?" Ginny asked, laying her head on his shoulder. It felt…right. There was no other word for it. Right.

Like feeling the baby squirm and wiggle inside her, so miraculous even when she was trying to fall asleep at three in the morning. The swooping in her stomach when she pulled out of a tight barrel roll. Planning the nightly raids with Neville and Luna during her sixth year. Grannie Prewett's graceful fingers braiding her hair. The biggest snowball fight of the year with her brothers. A delicious spoonful of her mother's carrot soup at the kitchen table.

Seeing Harry for the first time at that same table. Seeing him standing over Voldermort, finally free. Seeing him in New York when she had nothing to offer except a tiny a little soul growing under her heart. Seeing delight in that soul's growth as time passed.

Seeing him…just seeing him. That was right.

Harry was right.

_So close was waiting, waiting here with you  
>And now forever I know<br>All that I wanted to hold you  
>So close<em>

His hand smoothed up and down her back and she heard him swallow. "So you could be happy," he admitted. "I…I like it when you're happy."

The words flowed out of here with no restraint, no hesitation. "Well, I like it when you're happy, too."

"Yeah?" Why did he sound so awed by that simple truth.

"Yes."

There were dozens of other couples on the dance floor with them and yet it seemed to Ginny's eyes and ears that the world was theirs alone.

Just the two…no.

The **three** of them. __

_So close to reaching that famous happy end  
>Almost believing this was not pretend<br>And now you're beside me and look how far we've come  
>So far we are so close <em>

She loved him. There would never be a time she could deny that to herself. She had turned her entire world upside down and topsy-turvy a dozen times over because she did. All because of Harry.

But lately her world hadn't been the only one thrown off kilter.

Harry had given up his home and his privacy. He had done away with the lies he used to shield himself from the fear of loss. He had given up a relationship with a woman he been with for over two years. Goodness, just yesterday he had spent two hours cleaning up horse manure.

All because…because of her?

If she had made all those changes, faced all those hardships out of love for him, was it really that out of bounds to believe he could do the same for the exact same reasons? __

_How could I face the faceless days  
>If I should lose you now?<br>We're so close  
>To reaching that famous happy end<br>And almost believing this was not pretend  
>Let's go on dreaming for we know we are<br>So close  
>So close<br>And still so far_

"We're not just friends," she said in a fraction of a whisper. Her heart sped up and breathing became a herculean task.

Harry stared down at her curiously as the last notes faded. His nose almost touched the tip of hers. "What did you say?"

The noise and babble of the room rushed in a wave against Ginny's muddled mind and she took a step back from him, never releasing the grip on his hand.

"Can…Can we talk outside?" Ginny asked him.

He nodded slowly. "Sure," he said and followed as Ginny led them towards one of the empty balconies on the outskirts of the festivities.

What she was contemplating, what she was about to do went against every instinct she had cultivated over the last several years. And while they may have inadvertently put her on the path to finding her son, it was time for Ginny to forge a new road ahead to the future. One that made her truly happy.

It would help, of course, if her legs didn't feel as if they were made of jelly instead of bone.

A young waiter stepped in front of her and offered her a glass. "Gillywater, miss?"

"Thank you," she said, taking it blindly. She saw nothing, heard nothing except the speech she was writing in her mind with every step. The veranda doors opened as soon as they approached, and Harry and Ginny walked together onto the balcony, incased in a pleasant Warming Charm, breathing in the air of winter's night.

The fresh oxygen packed a one-two punch. It helped to calm some of the adrenaline coursing through her nervous system, but it also shocked her brain for a moment and her resolve weakened as she released Harry and stared out onto the manor grounds, setting her drink on the stone railing.

Harry kept a good ten or fifteen paces away from her. "What did you want to talk about, Ginny?"

_How much I love you and want to be with you. How much I think you maybe, might possibly love me back. What exactly that means for us after I say all these things._

"Where are Nell and Bart?" Ginny asked instead to the starry sky. Godric, she couldn't even look at him and she wanted to tell him…

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said. "I saw them talking to Ron and Hermione a while ago, but-"

"The newlyweds are here?" Her nails scratched lightly against the grey stone. "Why-Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a surprise. For you, I mean. One of a, uh, a couple surprises tonight, actually. The other parts of it aren't arriving for an hour or so."

"Oh. I see." Another something wonderful he had done for her. That made the count what exactly? Eleven hundred and ninety-eight to maybe three or four? Her wrap was suddenly so restricting and so cumbersome in the warm air of the balcony. She shrugged it off and draped it next to her goblet.

"Ginny, if you need some time alone I can go back inside." Harry didn't even sound that close to her. His voice was closer to the door than it was to her. He was keeping a fair amount of distance between them.

Distance? Wasn't that the name of the game?

Ginny's head shot up.

_No. No more games. No more distance._

She turned, her gown swirling at her feet. "We're not just friends," she said determinedly. Harry looked at her blankly and she struggled to explain. "I mean, all this time, all these months I've looked at…I've **tried **to look at us with the eyes of a friend and nothing more. Everything you've done since you saw me in New York and when I came to Hastom, I've only let myself see our relationship as a friendship. That…with everything we had gone through in the past I thought that that was all we could have anymore; that it was all you were willing to give me after what I had done to you. And no matter how much I wanted it to be different…how much I wanted you to care for me as I car-care for you, Harry, all we'd ever be was friends. " If she had the strength, the stone behind her would have crushed to dust with the force she was clamping down on it with. "We're not, though." She paused. "Are we?"

The three seconds it took him to answer were longer than any battle or match she had played in.

"No," Harry said softly. "We're most definitely not just friends, Ginevra."

Her name—her blasted name that her mother had cursed her with—coming from his lips was more delicious than Ambrosia could hope to be. The smile it caused was instantaneous, without thought or worry. It was automatic, like breathing itself. Her son must have liked how it sounded as well because his hands and feet danced across her womb, the sensation (and the horribly handsome man standing in front of her) releasing peals of laughter from her throat.

There was more light shining from Harry's eyes than from the moon as he crossed to her in just a handful of steps. He took his face in her hands the second he could, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs, drinking her in before his lips lowered slowly and…

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter?" A squeaky voice called out from the balcony door. Without hesitation, Harry turned her away so her stomach wouldn't be visible.

The urge to commit murder was not entirely unfamiliar to Ginny, given how many Death Eaters she had faced in life. She couldn't ever quite recall it being this strong before.

_Really?_ She glared up the heavens in disgust. _Is this your idea of joke, Fred? Not your best one, brother dear._

"Yes?" Harry ground out impatiently from behind her.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Minister Shaklebolt is requesting a moment of your time."

"I'll find him later."

"Actually, when I said 'requesting'…I probably should've said 'requiring' a moment of your time. That would have fit the situation better."

"Tell him-"

"Mr. Potter, I don't mean to be a nuisance, but he said if you weren't with me when I came back then he would…I don't want to go into details. I assure you, though, that my willy shall be forever grateful if you return with me now."

Harry's grip on her shoulders became painful for the smallest fraction of time before he relaxed his hold. "I'll be right there," he choked out. The footsteps retreated quickly and Ginny sagged against him.

"That's not a sign, right? That…That this is-" Her words stopped when Harry buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply, pressing a tender kiss to her crown.

"I swear to you, I will be five minutes," he vowed. "I don't care if Voldermort has risen from the grave. Someone else can fight him this time. You and I, we're talking. A lot. I give you my word."

The reality of what else they might get to do tonight made her weak knees positively useless. "Will there be anything…else? Besides talking, I mean?"

His hand snaked across her belly and he laughed happily into her updo. "Whatever you feel up to, I'm more than ready for. Maybe we should just stick to the talking part tonight, though. Until you can have a conversation with Nell about the, uh, logistics of anything else besides talking."

"Hopefully she won't invoke Switzerland for that one." All of the weight Ginny was holding onto was in her stomach now; her heart and her soul were soaring blindly. "Go and see Kingsley before he does something to that poor boy's bits."

"You'll still be here?"

"Right here." Ginny laid her hand over his on her belly. "Both of us."

"Alright." Harry planted one more kiss on her head before he released her and slowly walked away. She waited until his footsteps were gone completely before she turned back to the open door. If she saw any part of him now, there was no telling what she might do to him and there were cameras present here tonight. Her mother had only just gotten over Ron and Hermione's elopement; no need to send her into a fresh round of hysterics over public debauchery. To cool her tempting thoughts, she took a long drink of Gillywater.

_I can kiss him tonight and…and he'll kiss me back. He'll kiss me back. Bloody hell, he'll kiss me back!_

Closing her eyes and smiling up at the moon, Ginny leaned back against the railing. Just an hour ago she had been absolutely uncertain of one of the most important things in her life. The constant worry and fret had become so second nature to her; she hadn't even noticed how crippling it was until she was relieved of it. Now she was bathed in moonlight, sipping a sweet beverage and about to be handed an award before she went home with Harry to-

"No!" Ginny gasped in shock to see a frantic waiter standing in front of her. His young face stared at hers in horror for a second before he knocked the empty glass out of her hand.

"What…What are you doing?" Ginny asked, clutching her thudding chest and her large belly. The wrap lay forgotten beside her, but her fright pushed the thought out of her mind.

The boy was maybe nineteen, and she couldn't help notice the jagged lines of acne along his jaw. "Did you drink it all?" he asked.

"Why are you-?"

"DID YOU DRINK IT ALL?" He took her shoulders and shook her violently.

"Yes!" Ginny cried, wrenching herself from his grasp. "It wasn't alcohol! It was just Gilly…" Her voice trailed off as she searched the boy's eyes. They darted spastically from hers to…to…

Her stomach.

_Oh, sweet Godric..._

The water was too sweet. In the euphoria of the moment, she hadn't noticed that the beverage was far too sweet to have been just Gillywater.

"W-What was in the drink?" The last time she had felt so scared, so unsure, was seeing Harry standing over her in the Chamber. Ginny had been positive they were both dead, and she remembered thinking that there shouldn't be a world that didn't have Harry in it. "What did you give me?"

He didn't tell her. He only backed away slowly, on shaking limbs. "Get…Get to St. Mungo's," he ordered. "Now."

"What was in it?" Ginny staggered forward.

"I-I'm so sorry. They didn't say you were pregnant. They just said they wanted to embarrass you and-"

"WHAT WAS I-?" The sharp pain lanced like fire through her stomach and up her spine. She clutched at the boy's robes, not even having the breath to scream. Her eyes blurred with it and she looked up at the boy, desperate for help for her child.

With tears in his own, he peeled her fingers from his clothes. Ginny fell to her knees with a thud. "Plea-Please forgive me!" He Apparated away as another pain, even stronger than the last, ripped through her body.

_GET! UP!_ Her mind commanded her. _GET UP NOW! YOUR CHILD NEEDS HELP!_

It felt like moving through broken glass and quicksand at the same time. Every breath was torture and every inch she took to push herself to her knees and then her feet was unbearable. Finally, with the assistance of the door handle, she was upright and walking slowly. Too slowly and yet it was all her body could muster at the moment. The pain flared violently again, and she had no choice but to stop.

_It's alright_, she silently told her son. _It's going to be alright. Mummy will get…get us help and we'll be_-

"I'm not lying," she moaned to herself. "I'm not ly…"

_FIND HELP! Worry about telling lies later!_

When the pain ebbed to a stabbing throb, she raced forward as quickly as she could until she was standing on the edge of the ballroom. There were people dancing and laughing all around her, too busy to notice the danger she was in.

A contraction (that, unfortunately, was all it could be) took hold once more, and her eyes widened in shock at its intensity. Her eyes also found relief in the form of Nell. But the healer was all the way across the room and didn't see her patient from where she was giggling at her husband's side.

"Nell," Ginny said as loud as she could. To call it a whisper would have been charitable. Her stomach seized and she grabbed onto the velvet curtains near the balcony door, tears streaming down her face.

_I can't…It's too much…There isn't anything I can do…_

Underneath her fingertips, she felt her boy moving restlessly. Unlike other times, he wasn't angry or impatient or even just teasing her a bit.

He was scared. Her baby was scared.

Ginny sucked in as deep a breath as she could and bellowed, "NNNEEELLLLLL!"

The party ceased immediately. All eyes turned to her again, for a much different reason than her previous entrance. Ginny didn't care at all. She only cared for the reaction of the best healer she had ever known.

As usual, Nell Nixon did not disappoint.

The scream had barely left Ginny's lips before Nell sprinted toward her. Even though she was a good hundred feet away, Nell was at her friend's side as she collapsed to the ground, a ring of people forming around them.

"Ginny?" Nell demanded looking into her eyes. "What's wrong, luv? What's happening? Are you in pain?"

Ginny could only nod.

"Contractions?"

She nodded again.

"Okay, this is what we're going to do: We're going to have a Portkey made up to take us to the hospital and we'll see if we can stop your labor and-"

Ginny turned her head to look out the open door, frantically trying to communicate with her friend with blinks and wide eyes. The cup was still lying out on the stone floor where it had been discarded.

"What? Ginny, what is it?"

"C-C-Cup."

Nell's wand appeared seamlessly. "_Accio_ cup!" The cup flew towards them and Nell grabbed it. Pointing her wand at it again, she muttered a different spell and watched closely as the gold goblet glowed a faint orange, then a brilliant purple. Nell dropped it beside her immediately, her lovely features freezing in horror.

Ginny squeezed her other hand to get her attention. "W-What…?"

"Get me a Portkey to St. Mungo's right now!" Nell shouted to the room at large. "Someone! Anyone! This is an emergency!"

_Oh Godric…she's scared. That can't be good_, Ginny thought helplessly as another pain rocked up her back. Her vision blurred once more into a deep blackness, voices swirling around her.

"What happened? Ginny! Ginny, answer me!"

"Harry, step back! She's…she's having a reaction to something that was in her drink. We're getting her to help!"

"Drink? An allery or…"

"N-No, someone must have…slipped it in and-"

"Who? Who would-?"

"I don't know! That's not important now! We need to get her to St. Mungo's!"

"I'll Apparate us-"

"NO! The baby could splinch in the womb! We're getting a Portkey, just please…"

The weight holding down her eyelids lifted, and she could see again. When the brightness forced its way in the first thing she saw was Harry's green eyes, staring down at her in terror.

"Stay with me, Ginny," she heard him command. She tried to open her mouth to reply, to ease him in some way, but the contraction rocked through her again, and there was something else she needed to say that was more important than Harry.

Her head lolled towards Nell, catching her blue eyes as she moved her wand steadily over Ginny's body. "Save him," she told her healer. "Save my baby."

"I will," Nell promised hurriedly.

"He's first…I'm second." Nell's wand hand started trembling ever so. "Nell…" Ginny needed to hear it.

"Ba-Baby's first, you're second," she repeated.

"Thank you." With her last bit of strength, she turned back to Harry. His fingers were stroking her hair gently, and he kept his eyes on hers.

Good.

If she had a choice, the last thing she wanted to see in this life was his beautiful green eyes.

She wished her son could've had his eyes.

The darkness reared once more, and there was no more green.

Only black.

**J, you've been there since almost the beginning, and you're one of the main reasons why this story has developed the way it has. Your questions and nudges are always appreciated. I always think long and hard about them, even if I still end going my own way. You rock!**

**C, my real-life comrade in the world of fanfic. Work is infinitely more fun when we're discussing a scene or a backstory. You also rock!**

**S, you're a little later to the party than others, but our email chains get the creative juices flowing like almost nothing else. I hope the feeling is mutual with your work. Guess what? You rock as well!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes: This is maybe the one and only chapter that I'll preface with a warning: I know exactly what I'm doing. Don't panic. I offer great thanks to my betas, all of whom put just as much work into correcting my pathetic grammar as I do with plot. Happy reading, and please feel free to drop me a line. Enjoy!**

_Someone help me! _Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs. _Please! I need help! Can't anyone hear me?_

No one answered and she had known they wouldn't.

It had to have been days, maybe even weeks or months, and no one had saved her yet.

Maybe she was just in a place beyond saving.

All Ginny knew for certain was that she trapped somewhere. Lying completely prone on her back, she struggled to move as she slipped in and out of dreamless sleep, with no way to measure the time between awareness and darkness. Her arms, her legs, her fingers, her lips; none of them, no part of her would budge an inch. The numbness felt strange. There was a deep soreness hiding behind it, ready to pounce when the opportunity struck, and though she was unable to lift her limbs, she could tell they weren't bound by anything. Whatever potions she had been forcibly given or spells had been placed upon her were the only ropes holding her down.

Even her mind was affected. She had no earthly idea where she was or how she had gotten there. Anytime she tried to remember, the exhaustion took over before she made any headway and blackness set in again. Not that she knew what she was even looking for. The most her mind would allow her were hazy bits and pieces: Christmas wreaths; a few notes of a song; flashbulbs blinding her; brilliant, warm emerald. None of it made any sense. The only thing she could do was to try to find a way to escape, from the confines of her body and whatever prison was holding her.

Something was wrong, that much was clear. Something had been done to her. A part of her was missing, and she needed to find it.

Even if she had no idea what it was.

Occasionally, the black she was swimming in faded to a dark gray. That was when she could hear the faint voices for a short time. She shouted as loud as she could and still they didn't help. They only kept talking as if she wasn't there. She was unable to connect much of what they were saying to what was going on around her and within her:

"She's just so still. My daughter is **not** supposed to be like this..."

"The press is having an absolute field day. They're camped down in the lobby, trying to get a picture. Vicious mongrels, too. Robards even had to assign a pair of Aurors to stand guard outside the nurse…"

"Mum, you should go lay down for a few hours. Fleur and I will stay with her. Don't make us sic the good Healer Nixon on you …"

"I think we'll keep your daughter sedated for one more day. Our tests still indicate that there are traces of Thead in her system. Another round of spell treatment should clear it out. We don't want to take any chances."

"Will she be…affected in any way?"

"It'll take a while for her strength to come back and there could be any number of aftereffects from the poisoning: impaired vision, muscle weakness, memory loss, temporary paralysis, kidney or liver failure. Or she could come through it all just fine. It's all up to..."

"Bart and I finally got him to take the Sleeping Draught. He made Bart promise to stay with the little one at all times to agree to it. It barely took a sip to knock him out, the lunatic. What was he thinking, staying awake for almost three days?"

"Can you blame him? He left Ginny's side for a couple of minutes and…and this happened."

"This wasn't his fault, not in the least!"

"Ron, we've known Harry since we were eleven. And something that you and I both know is that there probably isn't anyone in the world that'll convince him this wasn't…"

"He's feeding like clockwork with the milk we're extracting from Ginny and he's gaining weight steadily. Reflexes are all where they need to be and he's in remarkably good health. I've seen full-termers come into the world in worse condition. The only anomaly is, well…you know."

"What an amazing gift to have in the family. And so young! I spoke a little with Andromeda Tonks when she stopped by before and she said when Teddy was so small, he couldn't shift with such…"

"The healers lifted the enchantments off her hours ago. Why hasn't she woken up yet?"

"It takes time for the effects to fully wear off, even after normal anesthetizing spells, and Ginny's body has been through an awful lot in the past two days. We need to give her a chance to recover before we start to worry."

"Ginny, luv, we're all here. Come back to us now. Come back to your mother…"

_Mum_, Ginny thought blindly. Finally, she recognized someone. _Mum is here. Wasn't she…wasn't she traveling with Dad? Why is she here with me if I've been captured? Are we all in danger? Is the whole family…?_

The stress of it all was too much. She had to know what was going on. Even as the murky currents of the black water crushed back against her, Ginny forced herself to swim upward, where the voices where.

"Did…Did she just move her hand?"

A soft touch of warmth broke through the heavy numbness where Ginny knew her hand was. She curled her fingers slowly into a fist in response.

"Ginny? Can you hear me? It's Nell. Move your head if you can hear me."

Why didn't Nell just ask her to try to fly without any hint of magic? That would have been easier. At least now Ginny knew the danger only existed in her mind if her dear friend and mother were both with her. The promise of safety provided the extra strength it took to lower her chin until her head lifted a centimeter off the pillow.

"Excellent job!" Nell encouraged her happily. "Molly, why don't you go down the hall and get him?"

"But shouldn't you…?"

"Just tell the nurses she's awake. They'll give him to you."

"Of course, of course!" Her mother's perfume tickled her nostrils as her mum leaned over to plant a long kiss on her forehead. "I love you so much. I'll be right back, sweet girl, and I'll only be gone a moment."

_I love you, too_, Ginny thought, struggling to raise her hand from the bed as a set of footsteps left the room. _Stay. Don't leave me._

Pushing up again against the invisible water, more of her body began to free itself. She could shift her arms and legs around though doing so was quite painful. She could move her lips as well, but she couldn't force any sound out of them. Her throat was bone dry. Only her eyes remained locked under the crippling weight of whatever spell she had been under.

"Don't try to move too much," Nell advised. Her voice was becoming clearer to Ginny with every word she spoke. "You're at St. Mungo's and you've been unconscious for over two days. You're going to be fine, though. At the ball the other night, you drank Gillywater laced with something called Thead. It's a potion that mimics the effects of alcohol. Normally, it's not dangerous, but it interacts violently with the hormones produced during pregnancy so…"

_Pregnancy? What does that have to do with-?_

Ginny eyes burst open, and her body shot up from the bed. Every muscle and bone inside her cried out in protest for her to lie back down. She ignored them as panic erased any trace of numbness and exhaustion. Nell took her arms gently to try to ease her back onto the mattress, but Ginny fought back as hard as she could, thrashing about and trying to swipe Nell's face with her fingernails. Her eyes burned with tears she couldn't produce and words she couldn't say clogged in her throat.

The missing part of herself…it had been her stomach.

Her empty stomach where her son should be.

"Ginny! Stop!" Nell ordered gently. "It's alright! You need to calm down!"

Two days without movement caught up to Ginny and she fell back to the bed against her will, shaking with fear as Nell hovered over her. Sleep threatened to pull her underneath the water again, but she fought to keep her head above the surface.

She could not let herself drown. Not now, not until she found him.

_WHERE IS HE?_ Her mind that had been an incomplete mass of questions now only had room for one. The most important thing in her life wasn't with her for the first time in months and she wasn't herself anymore. She had nothing, was nothing and never would be again until she knew where he was.

"Ba…Ba…by," Ginny finally rasped with wide eyes staring into the face of her healer.

Nell opened her mouth to reply, but a sound from the doorway caught her attention and she glanced toward it. Without speaking, she looked back down at Ginny and smiled before cupping the trembling woman's cheeks and turning them gently so Ginny could see her own mother with a teary smile on her face, walking into the room with a bundle of blue blankets in her arms.

Nell propped Ginny up as gently as she could, putting a pillow underneath Ginny's left arm for support as Molly approached the bed. There was no resistance on Ginny's part. She was aware of nothing except the blankets and the tiny hand that stretched out of them.

_He's…He's here. My baby's here._ With that thought, a new kind of fear raced through her, but it was easy to ignore (as were the sharp twinges of pain radiating from various points in her body) in the face of such impossible joy.

He was here.

When Ginny was finally situated, the Weasley matriarch carefully lowered the squirming bundle into her daughter's arms and placed a lingering kiss on Ginny's forehead. "Ginevra Molly Weasley," she mumbled into Ginny's hairline before pulling back, "I would like you to meet your son."

Ginny studied the small creature in her arms wordlessly. His eyes were closed and his entire tiny face was scrunched up, like the fist that had escaped his swaddling. He felt light as a feather in her arms, not even weighing a full stone, and he looked so very peaceful. It was strange, looking at her baby for the first time. Ginny had been sure when she saw him that she would think he was the most beautiful thing in the entire world. What she hadn't counted on was that she had lived her whole life without knowing what beauty really was.

It was a living thing, in her arms right now, his pulse thrumming steadily through the thin layers of blanket surrounding him, and she could not believe she had ever used the word to describe anything that hadn't been him.

Unable to help herself, she reached out with her other hand to brush her fingertips lightly against his fist. Her breath caught as he slowly opened his eyes. They were brown, exactly like her mum's and hers. As he studied her with the same intensity she studied him, the baby uncurled his fingers to wrap around Ginny's.

"Hi," she breathed in wonder. The softest hint of a coo answered back, and she smiled brightly, utterly enraptured. The tears she hadn't been able to unearth earlier found her now and streamed down her cheeks as she unabashedly fell in love.

How had she ever understood what love was until her son was in front of her? Nothing compared to this feeling seizing control. Not seeing the potion turn blue or hearing his heartbeat or seeing him squirm and wiggle through the curtain of a spell. It did not come close to what her heart did when she moved her thumb over the flecks of his fingernails and his nose scrunched up.

This was love and it was amazing. Brilliant. All-consuming. Shocking. Heavenly. Dizzying. Suffocating. Blinding. Absolutely terrifying and delightful and a host of other things Ginny didn't have words for. No one had words for them because there was no word for love. It hadn't been created yet just as she had never really fallen in love until this moment.

The love she felt with her family had been with her since the day she was born, as a part of her as any limb; her friends had all slowly entrenched themselves in her life until they each had a tiny little niche of her soul carved out for them; even with Harry, the unyielding love for him had developed gradually over several years as she grew to know him as simply Harry and not the Boy Who Lived she had dreamed of as a girl. Right now, with her son staring up at her, the bottom dropped out of her world and she was thrust into a brand new one. A world where the baby she held ruled her wholly and truly, without opposition or defiance. Her loved ones from her old world came with her, seated alongside him, but never at risk of usurping his position in her heart.

Her son was hers and she was his.

All was right in this new world.

"I love you," she whispered softly to him. The three words had never meant as much as they did now. Even though she had to do it slowly, she inched her head closer to his so she could nuzzle her nose gently in the bright tufts of purple hair peeking out from under-

_Purple? That's not…_

"It's alright, luv." Ginny startled at the sound of her mother's voice. She had forgotten that she and the baby weren't alone in the room. Immediately, whimpers escaped the baby's lips and his eyes widened in fright. The look stabbed straight to her heart and Ginny wanted to cry along with him.

_That's NOT right! He shouldn't be in pain_, she thought as she instinctively rocked him in her arms, pulling him closer. His head nestled against her chest and he began to relax, his cries fading before they had really begun.

"He's not ill in any way," Nell chimed in. "His hair is just purple because that's how he wanted it to look, I suppose."

"I…I don't understand," Ginny whispered, wincing at the coarseness of her voice. She extracted her finger from her son's tight grasp to brush it along the feathery locks of purple hair on his head. "Why is he…?"

"Simple, really: He's a Metamorphmagus and a rare one at that."

"What do you mean?"

"He's what we call an Alpha Metamorphmagus, or an Almet for short. He was born with his sense of sight and hearing much more developed than most newborns. The sight, obviously, helps him recognize shapes and colors more quickly, and the hearing allows him to be more alert and recognize people's voices more easily. I don't know why I didn't think to test for it when you told me some of the things he'd do in reaction to stimuli. I suppose because the trait is so rare. There's maybe one Metamorphmagus born in every million magical births and only one Almet born in every thousand or so of those births. He's a very special boy."

"Yes, he is," Ginny agreed, though not necessarily for the reason Nell thought he was. The baby's eyes narrowed a little and slowly, his hair started changing from purple to dark red.

"Quite lucky as well," Molly said, reaching out to her grandson's hand. "You both were."

"What…What happened exactly?" Ginny asked. Why did she suddenly feel so jealous that her mother got to touch the baby as well? "I don't remember anything."

"You drank Gillywater that had Thead in it. The Thead triggered premature labor and also put you in danger as well."

"Thead? That's not dangerous. Fred and George used it as an ingredient in some of their over-seventeen novelty candies."

"Most of the time yes, but for pregnant women it can be deadly. Thead interacts with certain hormones your body produces in pregnancy. It becomes poison and starts attacking your organs."

Ginny shivered and pulled her baby even closer, his hand slipping away from Molly's. "How did it get in my drink in the first place?"

"We have the Kestrel Chasers to thank for that one," Molly said darkly.

"The Kestrels? The Quidditch team? Why would they…?"

"Your MVP award," Nell replied, rubbing Ginny's knee in support. "You beat their star Chaser and they were out to get a little revenge. They paid a waiter to serve you the drink. The Thead was just supposed to make you act like a drunken fool when you made your acceptance speech. They had no idea you were pregnant. The waiter came forward afterward. He and all three Chasers are sitting in a holding cell somewhere." Summoning a piece of paper from across the room, Nell laid it on Ginny's bedside table. "It's from the waiter, a kid named Andel Putnam. He just turned seventeen last week. When he turned himself in, he asked that he be allowed to give you a letter of apology."

Molly fumed. It looked as if she wanted to set the letter aflame. "He should be locked in a cell until he's gray-haired and stuttering. All of them should."

"They didn't know Ginny was pregnant," Nell repeated quietly. "And they'll all probably spend a good deal of their lives in Azkaban for what they thought was a harmless prank. But Andel came forward when he didn't have to. No one would have been caught if it wasn't for him." She shrugged a little and Ginny saw her mother's face soften. "I just think he's earned the right to apologize."

Ginny eyed the paper for only a second before turning back to her baby. She had neither the energy nor the desire to deal with that situation just yet.

"You have a very good heart," Molly said to Nell, squeezing the healer's hand. "The heart of a healer. Thank goodness you were at the ball and able to help her."

"Thank goodness that Aurors carry Portkeys to St. Mungo's on them at all times," Nell said. "Harry had his with him. He was…well, very upset when he found you and it took Ron yelling at him to remember he had it. Ginny, you have no idea how lucky you are that Harry was with you."

"Yes," she agreed. She smiled down at her son and stroked his cheeks as his little tongue stuck in and out of his mouth.

She knew how lucky she was to have a good friend like Harry.

Her mother and Nell were constants with Ginny as people came and went from her room in a steady flow over the next hour or so. It was only the necessity of a quick shower that explained Molly's absence now. Some of Ginny's visitors were healers and assistants evaluating her recovery and others were family, her brothers and sisters-in-law that had stopped in to see her awake and well. Ginny did her best to pay attention to them all; give them all hugs and kisses or answer their questions about her pain level. Truly, she tried her hardest, and yet their voices always drifted out of her now-clearer focus after only a few minutes or so.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything when she had the most amazing person ever created in her arms.

Every time her baby blinked, it was a blessing and every yawn was a gift. Even his soft cries and wails for food or comfort were beautiful, despite the painful clenches they caused around her heart. His cries meant that he was alive and here with his mother against all the odds.

Ginny refused to let him be brought back to the nursery, even when the healers needed to exam her. Instead, the newborn waited patiently in his bassinet next to Ginny, always where she could see him. When she was free of the well-meaning healers, her son was placed back in her arms and didn't leave them except for his nappy changes or her own quick trips to the loo—helped the ten steps across the room by her mother or Nell due to the weakness in her body that all the healers told her would take several weeks to fade fully.

"So explain more to me about Almets," she asked Nell after her friend helped her settle back into the bed. She held her arms out impatiently for the baby as Nell took her sweet time with the boy, cooing at him with wide eyes.

"Well," Nell began after easing her godson into Ginny's hold, "as I said, they're quite rare. Most people have never even heard of the subclass."

"I never did and I knew a Metamorphmagus. Teddy's mother, Tonks. She didn't mention that there was more than one type." The baby started fussing, and Nell helped Ginny work her gown over her shoulder to feed him. The force with which he nursed surprised Ginny, but she was more than happy to take a small bit of pain to nourish her son.

"There are several kinds of classes of Metas. The vast majority are like Tonks and Teddy, those who can change their physical features to match others. But there are some that have more limited abilities and can only change one aspect of their features. Maybe just their eyes or their hair." She smiled down at the baby. "This little lad, though, will be able to do everything a fully grown Meta can do and much earlier, as well as being able to distinguish colors and shapes at a very young age. He may even have more talents. There are cases of Almets some being able to completely morph their voices. That's where his hearing will come into play."

Ginny gazed down at the baby, his little head burrowed tightly against the swell of her breast as he suckled. According to her mother, he could hear her heart beating. It was how he knew who she was.

"Will he be advanced in other areas? I mean, will he be smarter than children his age as he grows up? Or able to see or hear things that others can't?"

"His vision and hearing will never be greater than the average wizard. He just has it all right now as opposed to having it grow slowly over the first several years. As for his intelligence, that's up to him. He'll reach some of his milestones a little sooner. He'll smile in recognition for the first time in a couple of weeks and he might start babbling or even talking before he's six months. Crawling and walking might happen earlier as well, but for the rest of his cognitive development, there are no studies that show Almets to have a greater level of intelligence than other wizards."

Ginny smiled sheepishly. "Is it wrong to admit that makes me a little happy? I don't know how well I would have done with a two year-old who's smarter than me. He probably would have preferred Auntie Hermione to me if that was the case."

"You're his mum," Nell told her. "You're going to be the most important person in his life for a long time to come."

"Good." The baby's suckling was the only sound in the room for a few minutes.

Nell smoothed out a few wrinkles on the sheets. "Actually with Almets, research has shown the trait for it sometimes comes from the biological father. Did, uh, Lionel ever mention anyone in his family being a Metamorphmagus?"

"No," Ginny replied quietly, keeping her eyes on her son as she transferred him to her other breast. "He never talked much about his family. Only his mother, Angelique, and that was only to brag about the vast wealth she inherited from her father." A horrible thought occurred to her and she looked to Nell in fright. "If anyone in his family was, could that connect Lionel to us? To him?" She pulled the baby in tighter.

Nelly shook her head in assurance. "No, I don't think so. When we realized what the baby was, I did a cursory glance of the American registry on Metamorphmagi. There was no one with the name Dresden on it. The trait—if it even came from him—probably came from his mother's side, and even then it could have lain dormant generations before it popped up in this little guy." Nell sighed wistfully, watching the baby nurse. "He's so beautiful."

"Yes he is." Ginny patted her hand. "You'll get one of these for yourself soon. I'm sure of it. When Bart sees you with him, maybe everything will click in place for him. How completely right having a baby will be for the two of you."

"I hope so." Nell smiled again as the baby sneezed a little and detached from Ginny's breast for a moment before latching back on hungrily "I did overhear my husband telling Harry how cute he thought his godson was."

It was the first time all day that Ginny took the time to consider that she hadn't seen Harry since she had woken up. In the glory of being with her baby, she hadn't noticed that Harry's face hadn't been among any of the people filtering in and out of her room all day.

Why wasn't he here with her, with them? Didn't he want to see the baby he had been speaking to these past few months now that the boy was here in the flesh? Dimly, she recalled Harry asking her distended stomach which ornaments to put on the Christmas tree sitting the living room of his house. Had all that excitement vanished once the baby was no longer inside her? Had reality set in for Harry, that they weren't just playing house with a baby he had no claim to?

_The man does have a world outside of you, Ginevra. You can't expect him to hang around a hospital for three days waiting for you to wake up._

It wasn't pleasant to think, but it was true.

"Where…Is Harry busy or did…?" Ginny tried to ask, struggling to keep her emotions under control with the baby in her arms. His mouth finally eased against her and she pulled him up to her shoulder, patting his back.

"He's finally asleep," Nell told her, retying Ginny's gown for her. "He was exhausted. I was close to Stunning him to get him to lay down for a few hours."

"Why wouldn't he rest?"

The knock on the door interrupted Nell's reply. "Are you up for some more visitors, Ginny?" Molly asked, poking her head in.

"Of course," she said, kissing her son's head as he let out a tiny belch against her neck.

Her mother, Charlie, George, Ron, and Hermione entered, all walking straight to the bed and showering Ginny with hugs and kisses, depositing flowers and small presents on the few remaining spots in the room free of them. Quietly, Nell blended into the small group and left the family in peace. Ginny would have rather she stayed. There were some questions she wanted answered. With her mother and Hermione fussing over her and the baby, and her brothers fighting for the one armchair in the room, there was no time or space for anyone without the last name Weasley.

"Boys!" Molly hissed quietly at her sons. Their wrangling ceased at their mother's familiar tone. "Stop that this instant! You are all grown men, for goodness sake! Besides, you know your father needs to sit and rest."

"Where is Dad?" Much like with Harry, Ginny hadn't noted her father absence until he had been mentioned. "Why does he need to rest?"

Her mother only grunted in annoyance while Hermione and her brothers bit back laughter. "He's on his way, and he needs to rest because his obsession with Muggles has finally reached a point of insanity."

"Molly, don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Hermione asked. She took Nell's spot on the bed, and Ron stood behind her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder, still in newly wedded bliss. "It really isn't that bad."

"What happened?" Ginny asked again.

Her mother's answer was cut off by the sound of clicking metal coming from the doorway. Ginny's eyes widened when she saw her father standing there, sweating and supporting himself between two long metal sticks underneath his shoulders, his left leg sticking out and wrapped in a thick white shell. Even though he moved slowly across the room with the aid of the sticks, his face lit up with a smile when he met his daughter's eyes.

"Oh sweet girl," Arthur said when he finally reached her bedside. He leaned down and tucked her head under his chin, giving her a long kiss on the head. "Praise all of Wizardry that you're both safe and sound."

"Daddy…" she sighed, moving her son into the same position her father held her in. "I'm so happy you're here. I'm just sorry I scared you."

"Think nothing of it. As long as you and the baby are alright, any fright was worth it." He pulled back and stroked her cheek before he smiled at his grandson. "I must say, Molly. I was regretfully lying to you all those years. Our daughter is the most beautiful mother I've ever seen."

"She is," Molly agreed, folding her arms across her chest. "If only she wasn't cursed with such a ridiculous father."

"Now, darling," Arthur said, fighting to turn and face his wife. "This isn't the time. Our daughter is recovering, and we have a handsome new grandson to spoil rotten to the core. Let's put this silly little discussion behind us."

"I'd be more than happy to as soon as you get that monstrosity taken off your leg! We're at a hospital, a **magical** hospital, and they could fix you up in a minute!"

"Can someone please tell me what happened?" Ginny finally asked her brothers and Hermione, seeing that she'd get no answer from her parents.

"Dad took a bit of a spill a few days ago," Charlie explained, "trying to get off something the Muggles call an 'escalator' at an event in America. Broke his leg in three places."

"And wouldn't let a reputable healer look at it once that idiot from the group tour mentioned how Muggles treat broken legs," Molly fumed.

"The idiot is named George and he isn't an idiot," Arthur argued. He grunted as he hobbled over to the armchair. "He runs that big white house they have there in the States, which is apparently a very important job." He moaned in relief when he was finally settled in the chair. "I am a Muggle liaison for the Ministry of Magic and as such, it's a part of my job to gain a deeper understanding of how Muggles live their daily lives. Apparently, these," His brow furrowed and he looked to Hermione for guidance, "kestes?"

"Casts," she supplied with smile.

"Yes, these casts," Arthur knocked on the white casing, "are how Muggles heal themselves from these types of injuries. I simply felt it was my duty to become fully knowledgeable of what it means to not have use of my leg for six to eight weeks."

"ARTHUR WEASLEY, I COULD-" Molly began to roar before the baby started squalling at the noise.

"Oh, there, there," Ginny crooned to her son, cuddling him against her chest. "It's alright, Snitch. Grannie Molly didn't mean to yell in front of you, did you Grannie Weasley?" She fixed her mother with a glare. Ron burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" Ginny asked her brother over her son's cries, giving him the same look.

Ron shook his head, his shoulders shaking. "It's just funny how it only took a little while with him to turn you into Mum. I thought it would take at least a week at home with him." Despite herself, Ginny couldn't help but join in as her family started laughing all around her. Even her mother's frustration with her father was forgotten as Molly puttered around the room, straitening the flowers while trying to hide her own grin.

"So Snitch, eh?" George asked when they had settled down and the baby was calm again. "I have to say, I didn't think you'd choose something so untraditional for his name."

"Snitch is a terrific name," Charlie chimed in, stealing a piece of chocolate from a Honeyduke's box before Molly swatted at his hand. "As a former Seeker, I heartily approve of my nephew's moniker."

"That's not what I'm calling him," Ginny told them, rocking the baby gently as his eyelids began to droop. "It's just his nickname. I still haven't settled on anything."

"Well, you better get on that," Ron said. "Can't have him leaving the hospital without a name. What are all his fans going to write on his get-well cards?"

"His fans?"

"You, precious sister, went into labor at the event of the holiday season," George said, nudging her over to prop his feet up on the bed. "In front of about a hundred reporters and photographers. Add that to all the fame you've accumulated over the past weeks from eviscerating that pompous Skewrt Edgecombe, and your son has become the talk of the Wizarding world. I'm already getting requests at the shop for Brave Baby Weasley dolls and figurines." He winked at her playfully. "If you sign off on it, I'll be happy to cut you in on some of the profits."

She smacked the sole of his shoe as hard as she could, which given her still-weakened state wasn't that hard. "No," she said definitively. "I'm not thrusting him out in public. He's not anyone else's business but mine."

"It's right of you to feel that way, Ginny," Hermione said. "There just might not be anything you can do about it for right now. The papers have been filled with stories about him for the past two days. The press keeps trying to sneak into the hospital to see you and him. Director Robards has over a dozen Aurors undercover patrolling the halls to keep them at bay."

"All joking aside, it really might ease them down a bit if you released a picture of him or something," Charlie said.

Ginny looked down into the perfect features of her child, smoothing her thumb across the velvety skin of his cheek. He turned his head and started suckling on her little finger in his sleep. He was relying on her now and forever to protect him from harm.

"No," she said again. "No pictures, no press releases, nothing of the sort. They'll have no piece of him for as long as I can help it."

She wouldn't voice her other objection to the plan. If she let the public see a picture of him, part of that public would include Lionel. Holding him in her arms now, she couldn't help but to think of those awful hours when Lionel had almost convinced her that her child shouldn't exist at all.

_That man will NEVER know what this boy looks like_, Ginny vowed silently. _I will never let him see my baby_.

"Don't worry over it, sweetheart," Molly counseled her, stacking cards and letters into a neat pile. "Before you know it, the press and the public will move onto another story and completely forget about both of you. They always do."

"Still, he needs a name for us, his family, to call him by," Ron argued. "I mean, he can't go by Snitch Weasley forever. Especially if he ends up being rubbish at Quidditch."

Ginny smiled and gently kiss the tip of her son's nose. "Do you really think he's going to be anything less than a world-class Quidditch player by the time he's old enough to read?"

"Suppose not." Ron held out his arms eagerly. "By the way, can I hold my nephew? None of us have been worthy enough to hold him in the nursery with Ha…with his bodyguard standing over him."

Just the thought of seeing her baby in someone else's arms made her recoil a little, even if it was her brother. This was **her** baby. He was supposed to stay as close to her heart as possible now that he wasn't living underneath it anymore. "Uh, no. Sorry, Ron. Not right now. But, uh, you are right about him not being named Snitch, though. He needs a real, true name."

"Was there anything at all you liked when you were thinking of it?" Hermione asked as Ron stepped back with a disappointed frown.

"No," Ginny said quickly. No names that she could use, at any rate. "Nothing…struck me as fitting him."

"There's no need to fret over it," Molly said, coming back to her bedside and sitting at Ginny's side. Molly cuddled her daughter into her side. "His name will come to you in time. It's an important decision, one you shouldn't rush it without due thought."

"Exactly," Arthur agreed, studying the framework of the sticks he used to walk. "Don't want to go through what we did with Ronnie, now do you?"

"Huh?" Ron asked his father. The sticks slipped out of Arthur's hand, and it was only Charlie's quick Seeker reflexes that kept them from clattering to the floor and waking the baby from his nap. Both Charlie and George were fighting a losing battle to keep from smirking while Arthur became fascinated with the tiled pattern of the floor. Ron turned to his mother with crinkled eyebrows. "What did you go through with me and my name?"

Molly cursed as quietly as she could before planting an overly cheerful smile on her face. "Oh, it's nothing really," she said. "It's just…well, you see when I was carrying you, I had several scans done by the midwife, and they all indicated that…that you were coming out a certain way and you just surprised us all by coming out exactly the opposite."

"I'm sorry?"

"You," George tried to say with a straight face, "were the one who was supposed to be the first Weasley girl born in seven generations."

"Okay," Ron said, still trying to understand. Ginny realized at exactly the same time as Hermione, and the two women looked at each other, silently instructing the other not to say anything, that it would be more fun for Ron to figure it out on his own. "So I came out a boy. What does that have to do with my name?"

"Well, in the confusion and the surprise—not to mention having five other boys to take care of—it took us a little while to figure out what to call you," Arthur explained feebly.

"More like three weeks," Charlie muttered underneath his breath. George chortled and bit down hard on his knuckle.

Ron eyed both of his guilty looking parents with trepidation. "S-so what did you call me in the meantime then?"

Arthur smiled apologetically. "We…called you by the name we had originally picked out. After your Grannie Weasley."

Ron's mouth dropped open in shock as he stood slowly. "Rose?" he finally sputtered. "You called me Rose for almost a whole month?"

George and Charlie couldn't hold back any longer and started laughing hysterically, George falling down to the floor. Grabbing his sticks, Arthur picked himself up and swatted at both of their knees until they throttled back to quiet giggles. Ginny herself almost bit through her teeth to keep her laughter inside while Hermione simply covered her mouth with her hand.

"Keep your voices down, all of you! There's a baby in the room. It wasn't something we intended, Ronald," Molly said, putting careful emphasis on his name as she walked over and took his hands. "We just didn't have a backup ready at the time. The midwife claimed she searched and searched and never saw any sign of you little wil-"

"Do not," Ron hissed, pointing a finger at his mother, "make mention of my willy being little, woman!"

"Now, son, don't be so dramatic. We got it all sorted out in the end."

"Well, what took you so bloody long?"

"I would like to see you come up with a proper name for a child when you have five children running around at your feet and a newborn who never let go of your ti-bossom!" Molly whispered, casting a quick glance at the Snitch.

Ron prepared to huff out a reply, but Hermione tugged on his elbow until he faced her. "You are Ronald Weasley," she told her husband, keeping her features as schooled as possible. "It doesn't matter how you started out in this world, it only matters what you go by now." She kissed his cheek sweetly. "And besides, I happen to think that Rose is a perfectly wonderful name."

"Then you made a good choice in finally making Rosie here an honest woman," Charlie said as Ron blushed to match his hair. With the shock of it all wearing off, even he couldn't help smiling a little.

_You might not have a name yet_, Ginny thought as she looked back down at her baby, _but you already have a wonderful family._

Hours later, when night began to set in through the window in her room, Ginny was finally, truly alone with her son, for the first time. The need for rest after their vigil had sent most of the Weasleys back to their own homes. Her mother had offered to stay the night, but her poor father was truly helpless on his sticks and needed Molly more than Ginny did. Nell and Bart were still somewhere in the hospital, taking some long-overdue time for themselves and Harry, according to Nell, was still sleeping. Ginny paid them no mind. None of them were as important right now as watching her son. Propped up against the bed, she had her knees bent, the baby balanced on top of them. With the energy of the day fading, exhaustion kept trying to creep up on her broken and repaired body. She wouldn't let it win. She couldn't. It had been nearly a whole day and she still hadn't had her fill of being with her son.

Would she ever?

Leaning down, Ginny placed a kiss on his forehead, trailing her lips down to the tip of his chin before she pulled back and smiled at him.

_No. I'll never tire of looking at him._

"You're a miracle," she told him gently. "A pudgy-fingered, milk-guzzling, squalling little miracle." He caught one of her fingers in each hand and tried to raise them both up. "It doesn't seem real yet. I don't want to close my eyes because I'm almost afraid if I do, I'll wake up with you in my belly. Although given what happened to us a couple of days ago, maybe it's not such a bad idea." The baby grew bored with her fingers and decided to practice opening and closing his own hands. Ginny rubbed the sole of his impossibly little right foot as she continued, her mood darkening. "Keeping you inside me where I can protect you forever and always seems reasonable enough to me after what those stupid Kestrels tried to do. I'll tell you, I never liked them when I played. Bunch of mindless brutes, the lot of them." She chuckled humorlessly. "So I won a stupid award: a meaningless little trophy and a piece of paper. That gave them the right to…to…" She swallowed deeply as the implications of what could have happened—what almost happened finally hit home.

Against her will, her eyes caught site of the forgotten letter sitting on her table. She was a little surprised her mother hadn't thrown it in a rubbish bin earlier. Moving slowly so as not to disturb the baby, Ginny leaned over and took the paper. Giving her son one last glance, she opened it up and began to read before she lost her nerve:

_Dear Ms. Weasley,_

_I am the man who gave you the spiked Gillywater, and you have no idea how sorry I am for what I inadvertently helped to do._

_First, let me say how grateful I am that you and your child survived. Not because I was fearful of being convicted of a murder, but because I know that every life is precious, especially those that are just coming into this world. If I had even suspected that you might be pregnant, I would have thrown the drink down the first drain I saw. I meant you no harm at all. I swear it on my little sister's life._

_Brendon Garring approached me at the ball and offered me twenty Galleons to give you the goblet of Gillywater. When I asked why, he said that he and his two other Chasers had slipped some Thead into it because they wanted you to be the laughingstock of the evening after taking the MVP from him. I was raised a Kestrels fan from the cradle, and it seemed almost like I was helping out my team, in a pathetic way. The money was a factor as well. I've been—I was saving to go study magical animals abroad. It would have made the trip possible. Those reasons both made it seem like such a good idea when I approached you. They weren't. Not in the least and I knew it the second you took the drink, even before I saw that you were with child. I was just too scared to take the drink back when I saw that Harry Potter was with you._

_My fear shouldn't have stopped me from going to you, and it shouldn't have stopped me after I realized that you were…When I noticed you're belly, I remembered potion classes with Professor Slughorn. What the Thead would do to a pregnant woman. By the time I got to you, it was too late._

_I shouldn't have left you on the balcony. You looked so frightened and were in so much pain. I should have put your life above my own, but all I could imagine was what my parents were going to think of me when they found out what I had done. I thought if I left, maybe no one would ever have to know. My selfish fear is the only excuse I have for abandoning you. I think I'll look back on that moment or two in every dream I have for the rest of my life. In my dreams, I hope I'll be brave enough to stay and get you help or to drink down the blasted Gillywater myself. I hope I can be brave like in all the stories I heard of Mr. Potter._

_I wish with all my heart that this letter finds you in the best of health possible and that you and your husband have many happy years together with your son._

_I am so very sorry._

_Sincerely,_

_Andel Putnam_

Ginny frowned in confusion.

_Husband? What is he talking about? Who would he think…?_

"Oh," she breathed, looking down as the baby stared up at the ceiling in fascination.

Her tears smudged the ink as they landed on the parchment. All throughout the day, Nell had warned her that her emotions could start swinging with the swiftness of a pendulum at any time. Many new mothers experienced something called post…something that made them laugh one second and sob like a sissy the next. Ginny had been so engrossed with loving her baby throughout the day that she hadn't had a chance to feel sadness or anything close to it. Why would she? She was alive and her son was healthy. Wasn't that now the very definition of joy? What more could she ever want in life?

Apparently, quite a lot.

Because when she looked down at her son—her perfect beyond perfect son, she wanted him desperately to change his eyes from brown to green, and it crushed her beyond repair.

Her limbs shook as she cried as soundlessly as she could. The baby was jostled slightly and he started whimpering. Letting go of the letter, Ginny brought him up to her chest and rocked the both together. Instead of soothing him, her movements and her tears only seemed to agitate him further, which only served to upset Ginny even more.

"I'm sorry," she wept pitifully, her son's cries rising in intensity next to her ear. "I'm so sorry…I just…I-I-I want you to be…" She couldn't get the words out. It was too shameful to say aloud. All she could do was sob as she held him close.

What kind of mother wishes her child was different in some way? What kind of mother wanted a baby, not even three days old, to be something he wasn't? What kind of mother…

Mother. Her tears slowed ever so as the word hammered over and over in her mind. Mother.

Bloody hell, she was his mother, and she was crying more than he was! There was no one else in the world to care for him as she did and what was she doing? Trembling like a baby when the actual baby needed her to help him, to make him feel better, and to stop his tears. Her time for needing the childhood comforts of her mother was over. Now it was her turn to push aside her own pain and make everything alright for her boy.

Tucking her bawling child into the crook of her arm, she hastily wiped her own tears and took in a deep breath. "Okay," she croaked out, taking his clenched fist and bringing it to her lips. "It's okay now. Mummy's here, Snitch. Mummy's here. Shh…Shh. You don't need to cry anymore. No more tears. No more bad thoughts." She put her nose against his forehead and breathed him in, fighting back her own tears as the baby's reached a crescendo. "We're both o-okay. We're both just as we need to be."

The next fifteen minutes were arguably the longest of Ginny's life, holding her child close and listening as he cried himself hoarse. Occasionally, a healer or an orderly would poke their head in the room only to have Ginny wave them away. She had to do this. It was her job, no one else's.

_He isn't ill. He isn't injured. His nappy is clean, and he ate only half an hour ago. He just needs to cry, _she told herself, wishing she was strong enough to stand of her own accord to pace with him. They'd both have to settle for rocking and bouncing on the bed._ It's normal. People sometimes just need to cry. It's not fun for either of you, but it's what he needs to do right now._

Amazingly, his cries started fading to whimpers and then the whimpers into wet little snuffles. His red face started to turn back to its normal shade and his eyes drooped closed.

Ginny leaned her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes, sighing in relief.

"We're okay," she repeated quietly, her son breathing against her. Maybe she was allowed to take comfort from something to ease her pain. The thought made her smile as she dozed off.

She wasn't sure how long she slept before she heard soft footsteps walking near her bedside. Her eyes flew open and her pulse drummed as she sought out the disturbance in the darkened room.

"Who's there?" Ginny whispered, keeping her grip on the Snitch tight. "Show yourself."

She heard something fall to the floor beside her and she tensed. Slowly, the room brightened enough that she was able to make out someone standing over here.

Someone with glasses and untamable black hair.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, shifting awkwardly on his feet and her pulse hammered for entirely different reasons. He kept his eyes away from her, trained on the bed railing and she shuffled over on the bed to try and hide Putnam's letter underneath her. "I-I didn't mean to... I woke up a little while ago and…and I had…it was stupid; I had flowers I wanted to give to you." He rubbed a hand across his unshaven face and smirked bitterly. "What the hell am I thinking? You need to rest after everything you've been through. I-I'll just-" Harry turned on his heel and looked to make a clear sprint to the door.

With a quickness the healers had told her would take some time to regain, Ginny's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "No," she told Harry quietly, chancing a quick look at the baby. He seemed completely out of it so she tugged on Harry's hand until he faced her. "Stay. Please stay."

It hurt seeing him. She couldn't deny that. But she also couldn't deny it would hurt worse to not see him at all, a lesson she had learned from keeping herself out of his life for three years.

He still wouldn't look at her. "You don't have to pretend, Ginny," he told her. "I know you don't want to see me."

"Why wouldn't I-?"

"I just had to see with my own eyes that you…that you were safe. They'd only let one or two visitors in at a time when you…when they were treating you and I didn't want your parents or your brothers to have to miss a chance to sit with you."

"I'm sure they wouldn't have mind-"

"And I made sure that Robards made the hospital a priority. We've had the best Aurors in the department here keeping an eye on things, just in case the four we've caught weren't working alone or there was something more. You're perfectly safe here, I promise you."

"I know I am, but I don't-"

Harry finally looked at her, and Ginny was stunned to see tears brimming in his eyes. "It doesn't make up for what happened…for what I let happen," he choked out. "I am…I am so sorry I put you in that kind of danger." His gaze swung down to the Snitch and his mouth tightened. "The both of you."

Ginny would've given up a few years of her life in exchange for a third hand right about now since both of hers were occupied. That way she could use it to smack Harry upside the head, the stupid, wonderful man.

Instead, she settled for gripping his wrist a little firmer. "It wasn't your fault," she told him.

"Ginny, I-"

"Shut it, it's my turn to finish a sentence or two." Pulling him down, she scooted over on the bed to give him room to sit. "I know you're going to have to ignore years and years of conditioning to believe this, but what happened to me at the ball wasn't your fault. It was a bunch of senseless jokes who couldn't handle a woman taking something they thought was theirs." She shook her head incredulously when his face remained the same guilt-ridden mask. "You…Harry, you saved us. You got us out of that ballroom and here to the hospital. We wouldn't be alive right now if it wasn't for you."

"You also wouldn't have been in that ballroom in the first place if it wasn't for me," he argued. "If I hadn't been so dead set on you getting to receive that damn award then none of this would have happened."

"You're right," Ginny agreed quietly. "But then if you want to play that game, Potter, I wouldn't have won that award if I had kept my wand in my pocket when I heard Pressley Edgecombe on the wireless." She raised an eyebrow in defiance. "Are you going to tell me that this was my fault?"

"No," he said immediately. "Of course it wasn't."

"Then believe me when I tell you that it wasn't yours," she implored him, knowing instinctively he wouldn't truly believe it. That was just Harry. He carried the pain of those who suffered inside of him, his own personal chains to bear. At least some of the guilt left his eyes. His beautiful eyes. Unconsciously, she looked into the face of her sleeping son. "Believe me when I tell you I'll never be able to repay you for keeping us both alive."

After a long time—which Ginny used to further commit her son's features to her memory—Harry finally said, "You don't have to." With the utmost care, he placed his hand upon her knee. "I had…I needed you and him alive as much as…" He cleared his throat, loosening the top button on his white dress shirt. "This isn't the best time to continue our talk from the ball, but then…maybe it is because life is so very short and you never know what's going to happen from one hour to the next. How many reminders do I really need that I have to make my time with you count? When we were on that balcony at the ball, before you…Ginny, it was the-"

"Harry, wait," she told him, pulling her eyes up to meet Harry's hopeful ones. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"

He smiled a bit, almost nervously, and squeezed her knee. "Like I said, my timing isn't great. But we need to finish what we started, for the both of us. I mean, for the three of-"

"You were on the balcony with me at the ball?" Ginny interrupted. "When I collapsed? Nell said that I was alone when it-"

"No, no. Before you went into labor. Before you drank the…" The smile slipped from his face and Harry pulled back a little, unblinking. "What's the last thing you remember? From the night of the ball?"

Ginny searched the recesses of her memory from that night, trying to understand what he was alluding to. Closing her eyes, she looked and sorted until she finally saw a small, familiar Christmas tree before blackness took over.

"Leaving," she told him, opening her eyes. "Leaving from the house with Bart and Nell to go to the…" She trailed off as Harry turned away and bent over, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck. A small groan of agony escaped his lips. Ginny reached out with her hand for his shoulder, but the second she touched him, he sprang off the bed and walked out the door. Something crashed in the hallway a few seconds later, waking the baby. He didn't cry, only stared up at Ginny in confusion.

"I don't know," she said to her son. "I don't know what's going on."

_What did I say to Harry at the ball?_ Ginny thought, struggling to understand why he was so upset. _Did we fight? Is that why he feels guilty, because we fought and then I drank the poison?_

What could they have rowed about that was hurting him so much now? Another crash rang out, smaller this time.

_Maybe…Maybe we didn't fight. Maybe we did…no, now why on Earth would that have happened?_

Worried and scared, Ginny was considering trying to get out of the bed when Harry reappeared in the doorway. He didn't look like he was calm.

Only resigned.

"Don't get up," he told her as he walked back to the bed. He gently eased her down again, sitting beside her. Bending down, she thought she heard him murmur something under his breath, but it was too faint for her to hear. When he rose, he presented her with a bouquet of white roses, dusting them off before setting them on her bedside table. "For you."

"Thank…Thank you. Harry, what happened at the ball?"

Every inch of him looked to want to say something. Instead, he sighed and smiled a little. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," she countered. She may not be able to remember, but it had obviously been important.

His smile would have had humor in it if his eyes didn't look so sad. "How can you know that?"

"Because it clearly matters to you and-"

Harry shook his head. "The only thing that matters to me is that you and the Snitch are both okay. That's it. That's all I need."

His words may have sounded reassuring, but there was so much pain emanating from him. Ginny didn't know if anything she could say could fix it.

_Good thing you have something far better than words, Weasley._

Nodding, she asked Harry, "Do you want to hold the baby?"

Some of measure of happiness came back to him. "Are you sure?" Harry asked hopefully. "I…Nell mentioned you weren't really letting other people hold him."

It was true. She hadn't even let her mother hold the baby today. It seemed almost wrong to imagine him in someone else's arms. But when she imagined Harry holding him, it didn't feel wrong. Not in the least.

"You're not other people," Ginny told him as she carefully transferred the Snitch into Harry's embrace. The baby cooed and smacked his lips together, staring up at Harry, who in turn tucked him expertly into his body.

"Hey mate," Harry said to him, his smile yielding away from hurt into comfort. "Do you remember me? I know it's been awhile since we talked."

"Not that long," Ginny added, almost overcome by the sight of the two people she loved most together. "It's only been a couple of days since we put the ornaments on the tree."

A new flash of guilt crossed Harry's face, but it vanished quickly. "Right," he said. "Just a couple of days." The baby let loose a small sneeze, and Harry smiled even deeper at the scrunched up face he made. "I bet Father Christmas is going to have loads of presents for you under the tree at home."

In the span of seventy-two hours, Ginny had been poisoned, ripped open, kept under a blanket of unconsciousness, found her true self in meeting her son, and had managed to hurt the man she loved terribly. She should have been an absolute basket case, headed straight for the fourth floor of the very hospital she was in. But she wasn't feeling crazy or irrational or anything else.

Watching her son's hair start to slowly turn black as Harry held him, Ginny only felt perfect calm.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: And…we're back! So sorry! Little bit longer of a hiatus than I intended, but such is life. Thanks to all my betas for their great work and support throughout this bit of a drought. I truly have the most amazing trio of HP fanfic fanatics helping me get this piece out to you guys.**

**Speaking of my betas, I was given strict instructions to add a warning here about this chapter, but I'm not sure exactly what to say. Perhaps avoid beverages, food, and other choking hazards while reading? Have a loved on standby to check up on you? Avoid operating heavy machinery for at least twelve to fourteen hours after completion of said chapter? Or maybe it's not as shocking as I think it is. Please let me know what you think when you're done. **

Ginny winced as she stood and worked her arms through the sleeves of the jumper. Truthfully, she had been fibbing a little bit when she told her healers how much better she was feeling. It was necessary, though. They wouldn't release her from the hospital until she was able to get out of bed and walk around the room, so she had gritted her teeth and slowly made her way from the door to the windows, keeping her moans between her lips as she did. It had been an hour ago and her legs still felt a bit wobbly, but it was worth it.

After two and a half weeks in the hospital, she and her baby could go home. She smiled down at him as he peacefully explored the world from his bassinette.

Her baby snored loudly. He latched onto her breast with the ferocity of a dragon. He burped in her ear and spit up on her shoulder. He wanted to feed the second she needed to go to the loo and would demand to be held until her arms felt ready to fall off. In between all that, he would cry until his face matched the natural red hair he had been born with before depositing an astonishing amount of runny excrement in his diaper.

In short, he was perfect.

Carefully, she sat down on the bed again and pulled his bassinette close. "Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?" Ginny asked him. "We get to leave today and go back to Hastom. That's where we live. Now, our house isn't quite ready yet so we're going to be staying with Harry for a while." At his name, the Snitch's hair turned black for a moment before settling back to canary yellow, the same shade of the wall he was staring at. Ginny smiled and whispered softly, "You know him, don't you? I'm not surprised. He's been camped out here with us. I'd chastise him about being more smothering than your Grannie except that I like having him here too much. You seem to as well. Do you like Harry? Because he sure does like you."

The baby cooed loudly, as if to say, "Of course he likes me, Mummy. How could anyone not?"

"So we'll be with him for the near future and we'll finally get to open our Christmas presents at his house, even though it's nearly January. Well, you get to open your presents. I'm a grown-up now. Father Christmas spends all his time on little ones like you, not on old biddies like me. Now, uh, he didn't exactly expect you to be coming as soon as you did so I don't want you to think there's going to be a mountain of presents there. That's not what Christmas is about. It's about being together as a family, and you have no idea how lucky we are that we're going to be together."

"We're all lucky." Her mother's voice from behind her startled Ginny and she fought not to yelp. Molly sat beside her on the bed and cooed at her grandson before wrapping an arm around Ginny. "So very lucky."

"Mum, please don't cry again. Then I'll cry again and it's only noon, and I promised myself today I'd only cry three times before three o'clock. I already used up two in the shower and the other when I couldn't find matching booties for him."

"Oh, hush now. I'm just happy that you're finally leaving here and going…going back to Hastom."

Ginny pulled back and stared her mother straight in the eye. "Mum, for the last time, I have to go back. If I went to stay with you now, I wouldn't be able to become a citizen."

"I just don't see the harm in you coming to the Burrow with me and your father," Molly huffed. "The couple we rented to just bought a home in Scotland and with your father still trapped in that blasted cast, we can't continue the rest of our trip." She glanced sadly back and forth between Ginny and the baby. "Just for a week or two, luv. I'm sure if you asked the people on this Council, they'd agree that you should be with your mother now."

Ginny sighed and rested her head against her mother's shoulder. "I can't ask that, and even if I could, I wouldn't," she told Molly, keeping her eyes on her son. "I need to do this by myself."

"Ginevra, I appreciate that you want to take care of him on your own. Any decent mother understands that urge. But you are still weak from this whole terrible ordeal and you need help." She tensed underneath her daughter's touch. "Not to mention that you don't even have a proper home built yet."

Ginny tried to stay calm. After all, it wasn't time for a cry yet. Not until after three. "Harry is taking time off of work so I have help with the baby, and Nell is going to check in with me every day. As for my house, it'll be built when I become a citizen. Until then, I-"

"Have to live with a young man whose heart you broke many years ago. A heartbreak I fear he may never have recovered from." Ginny tried to turn away from her mother, but Molly kept a tight grip on her shoulders. "In my soul, Harry is my son as much as you are my daughter, and I don't want to see either of you suffer any more. You both drifted away from the family when…when things ended badly last time. I just can't bear to see that happen again if your living situation becomes untenable."

"Mum, we've been living together for months," Ginny explained, doing her best to ignore her own anxiety of what was to come when she left the confines of St. Mungo's.

"Not with a baby you haven't. It's an enormous leap to go from two to three."

"Harry's told me before that he wouldn't mind if the baby and I stayed with him, dozens of times, and he's even using his vacation days to help until I'm back on my feet, and there's a room at his house all ready for the baby," Ginny said in a rush, so as not to dwell too long on any particular point herself. Bringing the baby home was stressful enough without adding her wrung-out heart to the mix. "And…and you've seen him here in the hospital with the Snitch. Harry's fine with him. Wonderful, in fact."

Molly opened and closed her mouth before she sighed and nodded slowly. "He is," she agreed. "My dear girl, shouldn't that tell you something? Something important? Something that you need to discuss with Harry?"

_What exactly? How amazing he's been? How grateful I am to have him with me and the Snitch right now? Or how about how I feel guilty I can't remember something that happened between us at the ball that obviously mattered a great deal to him? Really, Mum, which should we hit first?_

There had been no discussion of the ball since the night she had woken up. Every time she tried to broach the subject with Harry, he brushed it off, telling her it wasn't important or not to worry over it before bringing her a home-cooked meal or taking the baby while she freshened up in the shower or any other of dozen things he had done to make her stay in the hospital manageable. When she had asked Nell if Harry had said anything unusual about the ball, Nell told her that he hadn't said anything to her. Ron and Hermione had given her similar answers.

Bart was another story, though. Just last night, Ginny had finally gotten a moment alone with him, as they went over the travel plans for today, and when she asked him the same question she asked the others, he hesitated before he answered.

"It's something you need to talk about with Harry," Bart finally said when she pressed him. Nell bustled back into her room then, leaving Ginny no chance to question Bart any more.

How lovely for everyone, that they all seemed to know exactly what she required most in life.

"I need," Ginny said to her mother, "to leave this hospital that smells far too clean and go to see if the lake in Hastom has finally frozen over; to see if Bart has enough ale at the pub to tide the hordes over on New Year's Eve and if Councilman Stellner's hellebores have bloomed yet." She snuggled deeper into Molly, hoping she could avoid any further mention of Harry right then and just enjoy the few moments she had left with her mother before they were separated again. "I need to go home, Mum."

Molly's shoulders trembled as she fought to regain her voice. "Yes," she eventually said. "Yes, you do." She sniffed and clasped Ginny's hand tightly. "Just remember that someday, this little boy is going to say something like that to you, and believe me when I tell you that as a mother, it'll hurt. Parenthood will break your heart a thousand times over. Every sniffle, every wound, every break-up, and every owl that brings a booklist in the summer will crush you, but none of that compares to when you realize that your child belongs to someone else the way they belong to you."

"It's worth it, though," Ginny whispered. "Isn't it?"

"Ten thousand times over," Molly promised. She turned and kissed her daughter's forehead, lingering for a moment. The peace of mother and daughter was interrupted by a squawk from the bassinette. Immediately, Ginny pulled back and reached for her son, cuddling him close, despite the flare of pain in her stomach that shot up when she lifted him.

"I can't decide if he looks more like Dad or Bill," she said, examining the miniature features on the boy's face. "The nose and his forehead are certainly Dad's, but his mouth and his jaw seem to favor Bill."

"He is beautiful." Molly leaned in and placed a smacking kiss of the baby's nose. He gurgled and the women giggled softly. With a soft touch, Molly tucked a stray hair behind Ginny's ear and let her finger brush against Ginny's cheek until she came to the corner of her eye. "I think I most love his eyes. They're yours, you know."

"They're **ours**," Ginny corrected gently. The sound of laughing voices in the hallway caught Ginny's ear and she swallowed back the sudden onslaught of fear welling inside her. The moment of freedom—the moment her life was to begin anew was upon her. Biting her lip, she turned to her mother one more time. "I…I can do this, right? I can be a good mum? Like you?"

"Of course you can," Molly told her purposefully as the door opened and Bart, Nell, and Harry entered the room. "You have no choice. He needs you to be."

"Well, what I need," Bart said, catching the tail end of the conversation, "is to get you to leave your husband, Mrs. Weasley, for a real man such as myself." He bent at the waist to place a kiss on Molly's hand before helping her to her feet. "This little dance of ours has to end eventually. Might as well give in and just stop fighting it."

Molly scoffed and swatted Bart's hand away before taking him into a big hug. "Oh, Mr. Nixon…even if I wanted to, you couldn't handle me."

"Mum!" Ginny groaned, shaking her head in disgust at the mental picture she now had in her mind. Even Harry looked a little green around the gills.

The flirting pair both laughed as they pulled back. Molly took his face in her hands and said, "Now, I expect to see you and your lovely wife often this summer at my home. Preferably with at least one baby in her belly."

"Mum!" Ginny repeated, chastising this time.

Instead of reddening, Bart only nodded once. "I will take that under advisement." Nell ducked her head and smiled a little as she gave Molly her own hug. Ginny glanced at Harry in question and he only shrugged his shoulders in response to their friends' behavior.

"As for you, young man," Molly told Harry after she released Nell, walking over and pulling him into her arms, "I want you to take good care of my daughter and my grandbaby."

He smiled warmly at Ginny over Molly's shoulder when he answered, "I will. I promise."

"And I want at least an owl a day from one of you," she continued, turning back to glance at Ginny, "as well as Floo calls whenever either of you has a question, morning, noon, or night. Do you understand?"

"We do."

"And pictures. Lots and lots of pictures of him," she continued. "You have no idea how much he's going to change every day." With a choking little wheeze, Molly pulled away from Harry. She looked him up and down from head to toe with raised eyebrows. "When was the last time you ate anything? You're far too skinny."

Harry simply smiled at her. "I'm fine, Molly."

She ignored him, addressing Nell. "There is food in his house, isn't there? I can send something along if he doesn't have any. I think I have a pot roast that I can-"

"We'll all be well and fed," Harry assured her. "No one that you've ever taught to cook has gone hungry and if you remember from that summer after the war, I was an excellent student."

"Yes, you were," Molly agreed, giving his cheek a loving pat. Returning to her daughter's side, she pulled Ginny and the baby into one last embrace. "You will be a wonderful mother," she murmured to her daughter one more time.

"Thank you." Ginny held the baby up for Molly to say goodbye. "Give our love to Dad. How has he been, going get up and down stairs with a cast on his leg?"

"He's been living on the couch and will continue to do so for for the next two months. It's a pleasant reminder to him of all the nights he spent there when the twins were teething." Smoothing her hand through the Snitch's downy hair one last time, Molly bid them a slow farewell and left for the Apparition point.

_This is it_, Ginny thought, gathering her courage and her strength. _Time to go home. Time for motherhood to truly begin. _

"Ready to head home?" Nell asked, giving Ginny's chart one last check.

_No._

"Yes," she said out loud. Handing the baby off to Harry, she let Nell run her wand over her for a final internal exam.

"There's still scarring in your abdomen from the removal. It'll be hard for you to move around on your feet, but you'll recover quicker if you can manage to walk each day. We'll just keep you off the stairs for a bit, and no lifting the baby up on your own for a few weeks."

"Nell, I-"

"If you want to go home now as opposed to sticking around here for a few more days, then you'll follow my orders to the letter. I'll check in with you every afternoon and besides, you'll have…help."

Ginny shot a quick glance at Harry. He was too busy mumbling what sounded like a plan to build a snowman in the front yard to be being pay attention to anything else. "Did Fleur send over the crib?" Ginny asked him.

"Uh, no," he told her, bouncing on the balls of his feet with the baby. "But don't worry," he continued when he saw her start to panic, "I…I had some of Teddy's old things in storage. The room's all made up, the one across from yours."

"But that's Teddy's room. I don't want him to be put out when he comes to visit you."

"Ginny, its fine. I talked about it with him, how that room will be better for you and the Snitch because it's closer to yours." The baby heard his nickname and flailed an arm out of his blankets. Harry caught it and rubbed the tiny, sleeper-covered arm between his thumb and forefinger. "Teddy was happy because now he gets the much bigger spare room that overlooks the lake and all his old furniture is cleaned up and waiting. Everything's all ready for this little man. Okay mate? Are you excited to go home?" Harry asked the baby happily, who squirmed in reply. He was so engrossed with the baby that he didn't notice the raised eyebrow Bart threw at him.

Ginny did, but the image of Harry with the baby was just too memorizing for her to care. "I'm sure he can't wait to see what Hastom is like when he's outside of me," she said quietly. Her heart was tender and aching as she watched her two loves life interact.

"So," Bart said, clapping his hands, "we ready to get this show on the road?"

"Sounds good to me," Nell answered. "Harry, want to give the baby to Bart so you can take Ginny?"

He looked very much like he didn't want to. With all the wards and enchantments he had securing the house, it was safer to have Harry Apparate into the house with Ginny and Nell (who needed to assess Ginny immediately after travel) and have Bart Floo in with the baby once Harry lowered the wards. Ginny was no happier about it than he was. It felt wrong to not have the baby with her, even if it would only be for a few brief moments. However, the real danger would be having the Snitch injured during Apparition by any sudden movement he may make.

"Alright, fork him over," Bart said, gesturing for Harry to give him the Snitch.

Ginny bit her lip in worry. "Are your hands clean?"

"Yes, I washed them today," Bart told her with his hands still out.

"When?"

"Um, I don't know. Last time I went to the bathroom."

"Which was?"

"An hour ago, Nervous Nancy. He's not going to catch Ebola from me holding him for five minutes," Bart groused.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest and turned to her best friend. "Nell, would you mind-?"

Nell held up her hand in understanding and said, "It'd be my pleasure." With the speed of a Seeker going for a fluttering gold ball, she yanked backwards on her husband's ear.

"Ouch!"

"Are you going to stop being a smartass?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to take seriously that you are in charge of this child's safety during travel?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to-?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Whatever I need to say yes to so you'll release my ear, then yes!" Nell let him go and he glared at her. "You know, there are some women in this world that don't love inflicting bodily injury to their husbands."

"Yes, darling, but those women aren't married to you now, are they?"

Bart considered this before he nodded in acceptance. "I suppose you're right."

"As always," Nell added quickly.

"Fine, fine. You, Wife, smart. Me, Husband, buffoon. Now that that's settled, can I have my godson so he and his mother can finally go home?"

Harry brought the baby over to Ginny one more time and bent so she could say goodbye. "You be a good boy for Uncle Bart," she whispered to her son, placing her lips against his soft forehead. "He's going to take excellent care of you. It…It'll only be for a few moments. You won't even miss me. Promise." Reminding herself that the sooner she let him go, the sooner they could begin their brief separation and end it even quicker, Ginny pulled back and nodded to Bart to take the baby.

"All right, buddy," Bart said to the newborn as Harry slowly passed the Snitch over, keeping his hands underneath the baby until the boy was fully nestled in Bart's stiff arms. "You are under my care and supervision for the time being, so you know what that means? No pooping whatsoever. For real, if I see or smell baby poop, I'm going to faint. That's no joke. I'm not proud of it, but that's the deal, kiddo. I'd also appreciate it if we can keep the peeing situation under control. I won't faint if I'm peed on, although there is a small chance I could cry…" Bart's voice faded as he took the baby out of the room. There was such a strong part of Ginny that wished to chase after them; to snatch her child back and put him in her arms where he belonged.

"He'll be fine," Harry assured her, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. "He'll probably just fall asleep and not know that anything happened." She looked up at Harry to find his eyes still on the door Bart had just walked out of.

Nell cleared her throat a little. "Harry, if you'll be so kind to take the patient, we can get her home in her own bed."

Shaking his head, Harry leaned down and lifted Ginny easily into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Looping her own arms around his neck as he stood straight, Ginny fought to keep herself from shaking as her skin nearly sizzled at the notion of being pressed so close to him. Nell was barely able to keep her smirk in check when she joined them.

_Shut it_, Ginny told the healer with her eyes.

_No, I don't think I will_, Nell taunted back, tucking herself into Harry's side.

Harry's breath brushed against Ginny, gently ruffling her fringe. "Do we have everything? Bags and shampoo and what…whatnot?"

Nell held up the duffle full of Ginny's belongings. It rattled and rustled, the Extendable Charm on it allowing room for all of the flowers, balloons, and letters of well-wishes Ginny and the baby had accumulated during their stay.

"Okay then," Harry said with a nod. Shutting his eyes to concentrate, his head dipped slightly until his forehead grazed Ginny's. Her breath caught just as the Apparition began, and the weight of the world pressed into her from all sides.

It was over almost before Ginny realized it had begun. The shock of release made her gasp out loud as Harry braced his feet to steady their landing on the hardwood floor.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. Immediately, his eyes moved up and down her body. "Did you Splinch? Do you need-?"

"I'm fine," she rushed to reassure him and Nell, the healer's wand already scanning over Ginny. "The Apparition just caught me off guard."

"Are you sure?" Harry's grip didn't loosen. "Maybe I should bring you back. Have them run more tests to make sure everything's fine."

Ginny shook her head, trying to regain control of her voice. "What you should do is lift the wards and open the Floo connection before Bart traumatizes my son for life." She offered a small smile. "Or, more likely, that the baby traumatizes Bart."

"Right," Harry agreed in kind. As carefully as he could, he lowered Ginny down into a chair, his nose brushing against her hair as he settled her, and left the two women alone in the room while he went downstairs.

It wasn't until Ginny leaned back that she realized Harry had put her into a rocking chair. "Oh," she sighed quietly, looking around the room she was in.

The walls were the softest blue, with white clouds doting all around them. Squinting, Ginny was surprised to see the clouds moving ever so slowly. The sleigh crib and changing table were the exact same cherry wood as the rocking she sat in, and a veritable army of box-new stuffed animals waited in the corner to be played with. The crib was handcrafted and looked more expensive than every piece of furniture in the Burrow; a pair of small, hand-drawn sketches of what looked like woodland creatures hung over it, two deer from the looks of it. A small marking rested on the headboard in elegant script. Squinting, Ginny couldn't tell what it was; perhaps an "F" or a "P", maybe even a "B". The entire room smelled clean, with hints of talcum powder and fresh linens filling Ginny's nostrils.

The only thing it was missing was her son.

"I can't believe he went to all this trouble," she said to herself.

"I can," Nell chimed in. She knelt beside Ginny and ran her wand down from Ginny's head to her toes, hues of grey and light yellow popping up over various points along Ginny's stomach. Other than a bout of slowly receding soreness, the Apparition had left her none worse for the wear. After all the colors faded, Nell looked up at Ginny with grave eyes. "He cares a great deal about you both."

Unable to speak at her friend's bluntness, Ginny only stared down as Nell continued.

"You have no idea how scared he was the night of the ball or in the hospital in the days before you woke up. I've never seen him so…so…unglued before. The only thing that kept him from completely losing it was the baby. Harry never left him alone, not once he was cleared by the healers."

"My mum mentioned that," Ginny said feebly. This conversation was driving quickly to a place she wasn't ready to arrive at.

"Did she also mention how Harry called in nearly every favor from every Auror in his department so that St. Mungo's was under tighter security than the vaults at Gringotts? Or that he had experts brought in from all over the world to check up on you and your son? Or that he didn't sleep more than five minutes at a time to make sure the baby was safe?"

"Nell, please-"

"No showers, no strolls for fresh air, no life outside the nursery of St. Mungo's. As a healer, I would have expressed concern over his bathroom schedule except for the fact he wouldn't drink more than a sip or two of water every few hours nor did he trouble himself with eating more than a piece of stale toast." Nell leaned back on her haunches and folded her arms. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Ginny bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling. There were even floating clouds up there as well. "I think you're trying to tell me that you've come up with a new definition for neutral," she answered.

"You could have died," Nell told her. "The baby could have died. The both of you could have easily slipped away from the Earth, and I don't like to imagine what would have become of my friend Harry if any of those things had happened."

From downstairs, they heard the fireplace flare to life and the muffled voices of Harry and Bart start to drift up the stairs. "My son is finally home. I'm not doing this now," Ginny muttered darkly.

"Fine," Nell relented, standing up and brushing the dust off her pants as the voices got closer, "but if you think I'm going to let either you or Harry get away with this for much longer, then you're sorely mistaken. Neither of you were ready to deal with this before. However, if we keep waiting for you both to be ready, you'll be gray and wrinkled before you decide the timing is right. There's just too much at stake to do this delicately anymore."

_Great_, Ginny thought. _Because all I need right now is for my friends to start meddling in whatever mess I made with Harry._

The only thing that could keep her frustrations at bay arrived in Bart's arms. As soon as Bart brought her son across the threshold, Ginny held out her arms for the baby. "Oh, I missed you," Ginny cooed to him once he was in them, relishing how familiar his weight against her had become. "Did you miss Mummy? Did you?"

Bart scoffed. "Please. It was maybe five minutes. The kid didn't even know…" Ginny turned her hurt brown eyes up to him and he quickly backtracked. "I mean, he was inconsolable, obviously. Not out loud, per se, but I could tell that on the inside, he was in agony." Ginny frowned and rearranged the blankets more securely.

"Too much the other way, luv," Nell said to him.

Bart nodded, examining the room. "And I knew it, too. Just couldn't reel it back in." He whistled loudly, turning in a slow circle. "I love what you've done with the room, Harry. Truly top-notch work, buddy."

"Thanks," Harry said, leaning against the doorway with his hands tucked in his pockets. His eyes lingered on Ginny rocking with the Snitch and she smiled.

"No, thank you. It's beautiful," Ginny said sincerely. "I couldn't have imagined anything better."

"You're welcome." He returned her smile with shy one of his own. "It wasn't all me, though. Everyone in the village pitched in something or another. The quilt in his crib is from the Wallaces and Cy Gentry helped me with the wall enchantments."

"Mrs. Alverez sewed the curtains herself," Nell added, "the Brouman boys built the toy chest, and Councilwoman Elton made sure the cupboards were filled with baby bottles."

"Not to mention the garden of flower bouquets, and the piles of fruit baskets and cakes that have commandeered the living room and kitchen," Bart chimed in. "From the village and from your son's many outside admirers. I think he's getting more marriage proposals than you at this point."

"They didn't have to-"

"We take care of our own here," Bart cut her off.

"And there's also a bassinette in your room," Harry continued. "I know it'll be hard for you to get around at first, and I figured you'd want him close."

Ginny ducked her head and nodded in appreciation of all the love she felt around her. How well Harry knew her, even with this new person called Mummy she was slowly becoming.

"You know, I've got to say," Bart began, "that this furniture looks a little different from the last time I saw it." There was a strange glint of amusement in his face as he stopped beside Harry, who stared back at him in annoyance.

Nell frowned a little as she studied the crib and ran a hand over it. "It does, actually. Wasn't it white when Teddy was younger?"

"Honey, I think that you're right. It definitely had some ivory overtones to it a few years back." He raised his eyebrows at Harry in question. From the look he was given Harry, it seemed like he already knew the answer. "Did you, uh, change it up a little? Go for something more traditional, perhaps?"

"Yeah," Harry replied slowly. "That's exactly what I went for." Giving a more genuine smile to the women, he told them, "I fixed it up the Muggle way last night when I came over to straighten up. I put a new coat of finishing on everything to spruce things all up."

"Finishing? Is that like paint?"

"Yes, Ginny, it is exactly like paint," Bart said helpfully. "But—and correct me if I'm wrong—doesn't it take quite a bit of time for paint or finishing to dry, old pal?"

Harry's smile bordered on venomous as he turned back to answer Bart. "Not if you dry it the magical way it doesn't."

Bart wrapped an arm around Harry and tugged him into a friendly headlock. "So smart. So, so smart this guy. He's got all the answers." Harry laughed along him, but reached up behind Bart to give his hair a painful tug. Bart released him, still smirking to himself, while Harry sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

_What was that about?_ Ginny wondered.

The baby started moving his mouth open and shut, nuzzling against her tender breasts, little whimpers escaping from him. Ginny turned her attention back towards her son.

"Guys, why don't you put together some lunch for us while Ginny feeds the baby?" Nell, ever the caretaker, asked Bart and Harry.

"Sure," Harry replied, turning on his heel for the door.

Bart remained where he was. "No, I'll stay."

"She needs to breastfeed him, give her some privacy."

"But I want to watch!"

"Bart!"

"Are you joking?" Ginny cried out. She pressed a hand against the neck of her shirt to hide as much skin as possible.

"I'm sorry, what did he just say?" Harry asked, coming back into the nursery.

"Not for the reason you sickos assume I do!" Bart told the room at large. "I just…I've been told it's a special experience that is quite lovely to be behold."

"Well, you won't be beholding it with me, that's for damn sure," she muttered.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My mistake for thinking that a friendship like ours was blind to exposed nipples and," Bart gestured towards his torso, "chesticle areas."

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Nell groaned into her hands. "Harry, please get him out of here."

"Gladly." With a gentle tug, Harry pulled him backwards from the nursery.

Bart dragged his feet. His eyes pleaded with his wife and Ginny. "I really am sorry."

One look at the earnestness of his face and all was forgiven. It always was with Bart. "We know," Ginny assured him with a tiny smile.

"I won't ask again."

"Thanks."

He shrugged at his wife. "I just wanted to learn, that's all. For…that thing we talked about."

Nell's entire demeanor softened. "I know."

Bart finally gave into Harry's tugging and left. Unbuttoning her blouse with one hand, Ginny looked expectantly at Nell. "What's all that talk about learning?"

"Nothing." Nell fluttered over to the dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out the carefully arranged sleepers and refolding them. "We, that is to say Bart and I, ar-are expanding our intellectual pursuits, as we all should in our lives. He just…He's become interested in feeding rituals of diff-different cultures of the world. That's all. That's all there is to it."

"You lie worse than anyone when you're put on the spot." Ginny gasped slightly as the baby latched on.

"I wasn't lying!"

"Fine, whatever you say. I'm not going to make you tell me. Unlike some people, I know when I should stick my nose in-"

Nell flew back to the chair, knelt beside Ginny and blurted out, "I went off the potion!"

Ginny blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"The birth control potion, I poured it down the drain last week." She squealed with joy. "I'm having unprotected sex!"

"So you mean you're…"

"Trying to give you a godchild of your own." Nell beamed, her eyes watering.

"Oh Nell," Ginny sighed happily. "That's wonderful. I'd hug you, but there's a person attached to me."

Nell settled for giving Ginny's knee a squeeze. "We just…we were watching the baby through the window at St. Mungo's when Bart turned to me all of a sudden and said…" She trailed off, smiling at the memory.

"I'm so happy for you." There was no child that could ask for better parents than Bart and Nell. Their child would have a tender heart of steel, like their mother, and fierce desire to see the world smile, like their father. And hopefully, her own son could gain a friend for life from their offspring.

"I mean, I know logically it's going to take some time to conceive. It might take up to six months for everything to get back on track internally. I just can't seem to stop myself from wanting to buy playpens and parenting magazines."

"How's Bart doing with everything?"

Nell's smile dimmed a bit. "He's…He's adjusting. He says he's ready every time I ask, but after we…" She glanced at the baby and frowned

"Complete your mating rituals?" Ginny supplied.

"Yes, after that he gets so quiet. I think he really wants a baby, but the reality of it still terrifies him."

"He has time. The stork isn't dropping the baby off on the doorstep tomorrow." She smiled down at the Snitch. "In the meantime, you guys are welcome to help out with this little wizard whenever you want."

"I will take you up on that offer more times than you'll be comfortable with." The both sat listening to the gentle suckling echoing in the room for a few moments until Nell spoke again. "Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"You need to talk to Harry."

"Nell…"

"Something happened at the ball between you two. When I told him you had woken up, there was something in his eyes that just came back to life. I saw him getting you flowers and trying to comb his hair out, getting all spruced up to see you, but then nothing happened after you talked."

"For the last time, I don't remember anything about the ball or anything we may have talked about."

"You could try restorative therapies. There are potions you can take, charms that can be performed that will allow you to remember…" She paused at the look of distress that came over her friend's face.

"I don't want to remember almost dying and losing my child," Ginny said quietly. "You said…you told me I was conscious and that I knew what was going on when you found me. There's no prize that'll be worth remembering something as awful as thinking that my baby was going to die inside of me."

"Even if it helps you to have a future with the man you love?"

A pause. "Yes. Yes, that's right."

Nell eyed her suspiciously. "Is that what you really think, in your heart of hearts? That remembering a few moments of terror is too frightening to handle rather than remembering whatever happened at the ball with Harry?" Nell's eyes sparked with realization. "Or is it the other way around? It's too scary to think of moving forward with him so you use your son as an excuse. But why am I not surprised? You've been using him that way all these months."

Ginny only looked down at the Snitch in reply, emotion welling in her throat. There were disadvantages to having a big sister sometimes.

"I don't know what was going through your head before you took a sip from that goblet," Nell said in Ginny's silence, her tone softening. She propped her chin up on the armrest. "I do know that it's perfectly natural for you to feel guilty over drinking the Thead, even though you have absolutely no cause to be. You did nothing wrong; on the contrary, you did everything right, Ginny. You got yourself help as soon as you realized the danger. But if you believe that having a future with Harry is too scary to even try, then it's something you need to work through. Preferably with Harry, and preferably before this one is potty-trained."

"I just got home with him," Ginny said, transferring the Snitch to her other breast amid his mewling protests. "This isn't the time to make any sweeping changes."

"Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you're holding a big old pile of sweeping change against your tit right now."

"I know, I know," Ginny agreed off-handedly. She rocked gently with her baby boy. There would be a time when the world outside the peace she had now invaded her life. For now, she'd simply take these moments while she was permitted them.

If she had known how long peace would actually last, she might have tried to treasure it a little more.

"WAHHHHH!"

_Bloody hell, he's a screamer. Mum was telling the truth about Weasley babies after all_, Ginny thought, fighting the urge to put her pillow over her head and block out the noise. That was no longer an option. Wincing, Ginny pushed herself up until she was leaning against her headboard, eyes half-closed.

"Harry," she called wearily to him over the baby's cries. "He's hungry."

The camp bed propped by the door groaned and squeaked along with Harry as he rolled out of it slowly. He didn't even bother putting his glasses on. Waving his hand as he shuffled across the floor, the lights brightened gently until Ginny could make out the bassinette when Harry leaned over it to retrieve the baby.

"Okay, mate," he mumbled, holding the wailing child close to his chest, rubbing his hand soothingly down the length of the baby's back. "Shhh…It's alright. Mummy's nearby. I'm taking you to her." Easing down onto the bed, he waited patiently while Ginny unfastened the last button on her nightshirt before effortlessly passing the Snitch to her, who latched onto his mother and immediately began suckling.

It was a dance that the three of them had become intimately familiar with over the last four weeks. Since Ginny had still been so weak from the double whammy of a Caesarean and the poisoning, she needed Harry's help with lifting the baby. Feedings during the day were easier; Harry could simply Apparate to the baby and bring him to Ginny if any of the trio were in different rooms. The nighttime feedings had proven trickier, though. Harry risked hurting himself if he couldn't concentrate fully on his location so Apparition was out, and even with Monitoring Charms near his bed, it still took him a few minutes sometimes to arrive in Ginny's room. Listening to her son's cries when she didn't even have the strength to rise to comfort him was a torture so painful, even Voldemort couldn't have conceived of it. After two nights of this, the solution came to be Harry sharing the room with her on a rickety bed that was older than Ginny's great Auntie Muriel. He woke up every two hours, along with Ginny and the baby, and he wouldn't go back to his rickety bed until the Snitch was in his own.

Harry never complained, not once. In fact, unless Ginny's eyes deceived her during these late night times together, she swore she could see him smile more than frown. Even now that most of her health had returned to her, she didn't know how to tell Harry he could go back to the comfort of his own bed.

During the daytime, in the brief spells they weren't busy caring for the baby or catching up on rest, there was hardly any time for words. Real words, to be more clear. She and Harry talked of things like the few editorials she had started writing or the different eateries Harry had visited in his global travels or the three page letter from her Mum detailing the benefits of letting the baby use a dummy. They chatted for hours about Quidditch and what to have for supper and how many nappies one baby could go through in one day. They had visitors all the time: From Nell and Bart's daily visits, to their little Snow Owls wanting to meet the future member of their team, to their other friends in Hastom who all wanted a peek at the little baby the outside world was so eager to see. And as exhausting as his weekend visit had been, Harry and Ginny had both marveled over how sweet it was to look at young Teddy trying to teach the Snitch to change his nose into a pig snout.

But the night was different.

The night was when Ginny didn't try as much to cover herself when she fed; she was too tired at that point to care, unlike the daytime when she always had a blanket on her shoulder. The night was when Harry wasn't running all over the house, trying to keep it in some form of order and trying to break Ginny out of the mild post-partum blues she would get occasionally. At night, he was simply still with Ginny and the baby. Sometimes he dozed off for a time, but he never left their side until the feeding was complete. The night was when they were quietest; brief whispers of nothing more than a few words.

There was no room in either their days or nights to discuss things like balconies or hospital stays or the ever-approaching end of their living arrangement or anything that resembled the past or the future. How was one supposed to think of anything other than the present when the present was warm and inviting in your arms while he nursed at your breast?

As he drank his fill, Ginny took her son's hand and examined it as close as she could in the soft light. Already he had changed greatly since she had first held him in the hospital. His brown eyes didn't squint curiously at her anymore. Instead, they were wide and held her gaze easily. He had already outgrown some of his clothes and screamed bloody murder if Ginny tried to swaddle him now. And just that morning, his biggest change yet: his first smile, a gummy burst of sunshine that took Ginny's breath away. Was it really possible for someone to transform so much in only eight weeks?

"I can't believe how much he's grown," Ginny heard herself say out loud. Harry picked up his head to glance at her. "I mean," she struggled to say, "I know he's the same baby I met at St. Mungo's, but at the same time…"

"He's so much more now," Harry finished. He gave a half-smile to the infant, the child completely absorbed in only his sustenance. "It's like he's starting to become a real person all of a sudden. You think of all the things he's going to get to do someday and it freaks you out a bit because you say to yourself, 'How is he ever going to be big enough to get on a broom or go to school? He's going to be this small forever.'"

Her emotions crept up on her and Ginny felt the start of tears in her heavy chest. "I actually think of all the things he won't get to do."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he shifted carefully to face her on the bed.

"He'll never hurl Dungbombs at people with his Uncle Fred. He'll never get a lesson in Defense from Remus. He'll never get his picture taken by Colin. There are so many wonderful people that will only ever be names and faces to him." Carefully, she reached up and caressed the baby's soft lime-green locks. "I can't stand it sometimes."

"I know," Harry agreed. His gaze drifted back to the baby, pressed tightly against Ginny's breast. Why didn't it make her uncomfortable to have him witness something so intimate? "But you can't let those thoughts linger. He's…He's going to have an amazing life, filled with family and friends and all sorts of people who love him. It hurts that there are people—amazing, brilliant people—that can't be beside you to watch him grow, but that doesn't mean they're not here. Every single time he gets upset and reaches for a bite of chocolate, I know that'll be Remus saying hello, and every frog he puts under someone's pillow is an, 'I love you,' from Fred." His green eyes turned to her tired brown ones solemnly. "The ones we love never truly leave us. A brilliant, complicated wizard told me that once, and I promise you that it's true, Ginny."

"I believe you," she said, sniffling quietly so as not to disturb the baby. "I don't know why I keep dwelling on things like that. All the books and Nell and my mum and…well, every other woman with children I've talked to said that I should expect to be emotional and weepy for the first weeks. I just never figured it'd be like this."

"Blasted hormones," Harry joked. "They really make a mess of things, don't they? I can't even imagine what they're like on your end."

She bit back her laughter. "I've learned to just hang on when the swings start. I'm not crazy. I have been better the past couple of weeks, right?"

"Yes, you have. But you've got a pretty stressful day tomorrow. Or today, I should say. Center of attention, the whole village watching as you become a citizen. I know I just wanted to get it over with."

Ginny averted her eyes and nodded. Harry was right, it was stressful to her to realize that her citizenship was upon her, but not for the reasons Harry imagined. Later today, her six month trial was over and her mandatory boarding with Harry ended with it. Later today, she would no longer be required by law to live with him.

Later today, she'd begin the process of leaving Harry.

Her stomach tightened at the mere thought. After six months together, it felt almost unnatural to think of waking up and not seeing him sit across the table reading _The Daily Prophet_ or listening to him talk about his case files in between commercials on the wireless; to not feel his hands against her feet as he rubbed them gently or inhale the air in the bathroom after he had just gotten out of the shower. How could any sane witch be expected to give all that up?

If she looked out her bedroom window, she'd see the framework of her new house. The plan as of now was to have Harry and Bart finish putting it together tomorrow afternoon, just before the town gathering to celebrate the citizenship of herself and her son. Every part of Ginny screamed that the first bit of magic she should do tomorrow was to burn the entire two-story structure down to the ground. After all, if she didn't have a house, she and the Snitch could stay here…

She wouldn't, though. It wasn't in her nature to be destructive to property. (Being destructive to herself, she had no qualms about.) But then again, it also wasn't in her nature to be such a coward. That's not how Weasleys were raised to be. And yet, with the prospect of separation from the simple domesticity she had managed to create with Harry upon her, she realized that's exactly how she had been living her life for the past six months. Well, really for nearly four years now, she had been the coward of all cowards by pushing away Harry at every turn and forcing him from her mind through sheer will. Her colors should have been emerald and silver, not red and gold.

Stroking her son's cheek as his eyes drifted shut, mouth slacking against her nipple Ginny thought of all the things she wanted her little boy to grow to be: kind, smart, funny, athletic, caring, silly, but above all, brave. She did not want him to be a coward, which meant he should not be raised by one.

There was only one surefire remedy that she knew of to cure cowardliness:

Boldness.

"What happened on the balcony, Harry?" Ginny asked him, grateful and surprised that her voice did not squeak like it had when she was eleven.

His look of shock was almost comical. Perhaps there could have been a better time to tackle this subject other than a three am feeding.

But boldness did not wait for what was convenient.

"Tell me," she prodded Harry, propping the baby over her shoulder to burp. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I want to know."

"W-Why?"

Ginny kept her calm by concentrating on feeling her son's heartbeat over hers. "Because if I leave this house tomorrow to live just a few minutes away, if I'm not sharing a roof with you anymore," she said, "I'm terrified I'm going to keep finding excuses to run away from whatever we have and whatever we could become someday. It may be easier to run, less scary, but it doesn't make it right. I'll never regret running all those years ago because it gave me him." The baby stirred and she paused to soothe him. She breathed in her son's scent; it always made her feel so pure, so hopeful. "But running also taught me how easy it is to lose one's self by something as gutless and petty as fear. I don't want to live life afraid anymore, Harry. I don't want my son to be afraid of anything in life. So if that means we need to come to terms with whatever happened to us that night or…hell, whatever happened to us over these last six months, then that's what's going to happen." She pleaded with him silently, hoping against hope for another chance she didn't feel she was entitled to.

It took Harry a moment to recover, his eyes going back and forth between her and the Snitch. The surprise finally gave way to acceptance and he nodded. Taking a deep breath, he held his eyes on hers so there was no room for doubt. "You said," Harry told her, "that we're not just friends."

Now it was her turn to be shocked. "**I** said that?"

"You did. Believe me, it's not something I'm likely to forget."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Ginny sputtered, "But you…you started…I was reacting to something you-"

"We danced at the ball, a slow dance," Harry began with a small smile, laying a hand on her knee over the bedcovers. She felt his warmth straight through the fabric and it helped ground her a little. "Afterwards, you got this strange look on your face, like you had worked out an unsolvable riddle or something, and you asked me to talk on the balcony. The waiter…" Harry's face darkened and his grip on her knee tightened for just a second. "The waiter gave you the Gillywater then, but you didn't drink it, just took it with you. We went outside, and it took you a few tries to finally say what you wanted to."

"W-Which was?"

"Verbatim, I can't say. The sum of it all was that you had spent the past months convincing yourself that I didn't want anything more from you than friendship and that you were happy with that. But you weren't. Happy, that is. You wanted more from us and you wanted to know if I did, too."

It seemed impossible to believe. If Ginny wasn't holding the baby, she would've pinched herself; she was sure she was in a dream. For all her talk of boldness, there was never a scenario she could ever imagine when she had made the move to change things. Never, not in her wildest dreams, did she believe she could have been capable of that. In her dreams, though, Harry didn't have three-day old scruff along his jaw and he wasn't wearing a t-shirt with a spit up stain on the left shoulder.

_So it must be real then,_ she thought in wonder.

"Did you say anything…in return…or…?"

Ever so slowly, Harry leaned forward until his nose was almost touching hers. Breathing became a feat she couldn't master. After a short hesitation, he moved up and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I agreed with you wholeheartedly before I raced over to kiss you," Harry said into her skin.

He had kissed her? There were scores of things the Thead could have erased from her memory: Riddle's diary, Fred's death, the time she walked in on Ron and Hermione playing Headmistress and Student. Why did it have to take away something as beautiful as Harry's lips against hers?

"We kissed?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

Harry pulled back, though he stayed much closer to her than before. "Unfortunately, no. Kingsley Shacklebolt has possibly the worst timing in the history of both man and wizard."

She couldn't help it. She started giggling at the absurdity of it. "The Minister of Magic interrupted our fairytale kiss under the moonlight?"

"No, he sent a lackey," Harry said with a laugh. "But yeah, I suppose it was just rotten luck on everyone's parts." A shadow crossed over Harry's face and he pulled back a little more. "So, uh, I told you we'd talk, that I'd only be a few minutes, and I-I left you alone." He swallowed deeply and focused on the Snitch's back. "That's when you drank it."

All she could say was, "Oh."

The totality of that night and its consequences finally hit her. In the span of what sounded like moments, she and Harry had gone from embarking on a path that had once seemed hopeless to navigate only to have it nearly snatched away by a misbegotten prank and then have it taken from then again when she awoke with no memory of the evening. If it had been a book, it would have been fiction. Science fiction. Too unbelievable to be reality.

Yet she knew it was true. There were no words or pictures in her mind to support it, except for the resilient trust she had in Harry never to lie to her.

"Now what happens?" Ginny asked, giving voice to the question running through her head.

Their reconciliation had started passionately and stopped painfully. How did they start it again without getting hurt? What did he want from her now? Should she invite him into her bed? Should she cry into his shoulder at the injustice of it all? Should she run screaming for the hills? Should she try to kiss him? Should she…?

Harry squeezed her knee once more, halting her thoughts. "We put the Snitch back to bed and get a few more hours rest. You both have a very big day when the sun comes up," Harry said, reaching for the baby.

Ginny clutched her son to her. "But shouldn't we-?"

"We have time," Harry said simply, "for all the nonsense that we'll have to slog through when we're both more awake. He needs us at our semi-best to take care of him, not falling asleep into his nappies because we felt the need to try and hash everything out all at once. We have time to get to know each other all over again because even though I'm scared out of my mind for how this is all going to work out, I won't let it rule me anymore. We have time because I know how you feel and you know how I feel. We have time because we have the rest of our lives to work out the rest of our lives."

This was joy, pure joy. Holding her son and being with the man she loved. Only one thing could make it better.

Grasping the back of Harry's neck, she tugged him close until their foreheads rested against each other. "Kiss me," she whispered.

"My breath is rancid," he protested lightly.

"I don't give a shite."

Just as it looked as if Harry would give in, an unmistakable odor wafted up from the Snitch's bottom. Grinning to himself, Harry shook his head. "Apparently, he does," Harry said. "A big, runny pile of it from the smell coming off him."

Ginny groaned and kissed the baby's head instead of Harry's lips. "Either that, or he has his Uncle Ron's impeccable timing." Handing him over to Harry, she chuckled tiredly around a yawn. The combination of a newborn's feeding schedule and the revelations of the night caught up to Ginny and she felt the urgent tug of slumber pull her down.

"Go to sleep," Harry instructed as he stood up carefully with the baby. "Big day, remember."

"And we have time." Ginny stretched, unable to stop her body from settling back against the bed.

"We have time."

She watched Harry walk out the door with her son, headed to the nursery. The baby started fussing against the mess in his diaper and Harry was whistling quietly, horribly off-key.

It was a lovely image to fall asleep to.

Fourteen hours later, she wished she'd been able to keep her eyes open for a few more minutes.

"Where is he?" Ginny asked Nell for the fortieth time. "He said he'd be here right at six o'clock, didn't he? Is that what he said when Flooed from the Ministry? In Hastom by six at the latest?"

"Yes, those were his words," Nell said, too busy dancing lightly with the Snitch as the fiddlers played to look at Ginny.

"Then why is it almost seven and he's not here?"

"Because he's an Auror and they do not keep banker's hours, dear."

"He's on vacation, he's not even supposed to be at work," Ginny said, resuming her tight pacing in the corner of the crowded village square. The stars shone down on the revelers in Hastom, blanketed underneath all manner of Warming Charms from the night's chill. Well-wishers stopped their eating and dancing every few moments to say hello to Ginny or coo over Brave Baby Weasley, as the Wizarding press had dubbed him in the numerous articles they wrote on him daily. Despite her mother's assurances that the press would find a new target, they hadn't seemed to tire of her son just yet, much to Ginny's dismay.

She was as gracious as she could be with the masses, but it was difficult. She hated taking her son out of the safety of the lake house. Out in the world, there were germs and unfamiliar dogs; Whiz-bangs that could fire off out of control, cobblestones to slip on, and people. So many people that she didn't know everything about who wanted to see and touch her baby. Everyone that approached her seemed friendly. Ginny had even spoken with most of them before tonight without a second thought. Now, surrounded on all sides by faces, her mind was full of second and third and fourth thoughts.

_Is Mrs. Dorgan completely over that cold? Her nose still looks a bit red…The Bambridge sisters' scarves are too long. What if the baby gets a piece caught in his mouth when they lean over to sneak a peek at him…How many Butterbeers has Senor Batista had tonight…For Merlin's sakes, Chauncey Attwater hasn't Charmed his hands clean all night!_

There was something confounding and suspicious about nearly everyone. Ginny knew it was irrational, a by-product of lack of sleep, overworked hormones, and the lingering trauma of her poisoning. The rational side of her brain just didn't seem to be working at the moment.

Bad luck Harry wasn't here. He was good lately at bringing that rational side of her out.

"It's not a vacation, its personal leave," Nell corrected, adjusting the tiny knit cap on her godson's head. "He still had to go in for emergencies and I believe that the capture of a Russian necromancer who was plotting to revive Joseph Stalin qualified as an emergency. He'll be here, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Ginny groaned quietly as she glanced at her watch again. Bart had left them almost half an hour ago to try to find Harry amidst the crowd. "Please don't make mention of my knickers in front of my son."

"It's work, Ginny. None of us like it, but sometimes our jobs call us away from our personal lives. You know that. Doesn't your editor want you in London tomorrow for a meeting about your first pieces for the _Prophet_?"

"Yes, thank you very much for reminding me that I'm leaving my child for a few hours in the morning. That causes me no additional stress whatsoever. I really appreciate that."

Nell merely smiled at the infant, shifting him to the crook of her arm. "Someone's mummy is a wee bit close to blowing her top, isn't she?"

The Snitch's face lit up with a small smile at his godmother's blitheness.

"He smiled!" Nell gasped. "I didn't know he could do that yet! That's amazing!"

Ginny's lioness pride quelled her nerves slightly as she took back her child. "Yes, he can smile now," she cooed to the baby, putting him back into the Muggle sling Hermione had sent her for a baby gift. "He has the most handsome smile in all the land."

"When did this start? Tell me all the details, don't you dare leave out a thing."

"Well, it was just yesterday morning actually. He was lying on the changing mat in the living room while he got a fresh nappy, staring up at the ceiling and listening to Mummy humming him a lullaby." She smiled down at him affectionately, absorbed in even the simplest move he made. "Then suddenly, he…he heard something and he smiled. I think my heart stopped beating for a few minutes. It was so unbelievable."

"What did he hear?"

"Harry," Ginny admitted, warming at the memory, "reading the article in _Quidditch Quarterly_ about the modern history of Seeking." The baby smiled again at Harry's name, the roots of his hair turning jet black and clashing horribly with the cherry pink he sported with the rest of it's length.

"Trite load of rubbish, it was. They were completely wrong about the five greatest catches of the past five hundred years."

Ginny closed her eyes, relief coursing through her at the sound of Harry's voice behind her.

"See, told you I'd find him." Bart slung an arm over Harry's shoulder as the two men strode over to Nell and Ginny. "I am a man of honor and as such, I returned my friend to another friend, as requested, with all due haste."

Nell tugged her husband's face down and kissed him full on the mouth. She licked her lips when she pulled back. "Hmm…Honey-glazed donuts. My favorite." She winked at Harry. "Apparated right in front of the sweet stand, did you?"

Bart hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Being a man of honor gives you quite an appetite."

Her friends' antics held no interest for Ginny. It seemed Harry felt the same way. They didn't take their eyes off each other until the Nixon's finally took the hint.

"So, uh, we'll see you both after the ceremony," Nell told them before dragging her husband away.

Harry looked divine in his Auror's robes. Ginny had always thought so, even when he first joined. He had filled out considerably since he was eighteen years old. Hard, taut lines had replaced what were once lean edges of softness along his body. In comparison, she felt like a Flobberworm in her lavender jumper and skirt. It was the only thing that fit semi-decently. Her skin still sagged and puffed out all along her body in ways she hated; in ways that she thought made her look grotesque.

Harry must not have agreed. He gazed at her as she were nothing but beautiful.

"Hey," he finally said, taking a step closer.

Ginny matched his movements. "Hey yourself."

"I'm sorry about today. It truly was an emergency. We've been searching for Kholochev for nearly two years and he chose to surface this morning for some reason. Nell was with you, though? She helped with the Snitch?"

"Yeah, we were fine. I just…" She shrugged to herself, feeling silly and nervous all at once. "When you weren't there this morning, I thought for a few seconds that maybe you had…I don't know, decided that it wasn't-"

"I wanted to be there, I swear on my parents' graves I wanted to talk with you today," Harry promised. "My work doesn't always care what I want, though. Sometimes it pulls me away from the things in my life that are truly important to me." He took another step and was standing right in front of her.

"I know. And I'm glad that you take your work so seriously. You wouldn't be you if you weren't trying to protect the innocent." Taking a chance, she brought her hand up to cup his cheek. "It just wasn't easy not having you around today of all days. I…I really missed you."

He turned into her hand a little and brushed his lips against her palm, sending her heart racing for the hills. "Well, I missed you."

A tiny squawk from the sling pressed against Ginny's chest grabbed their attention. Looking down at her son, Ginny smiled. "He missed you, too."

Harry took the hand that broke free from the sling and kissed it. "Yeah? Did you have a good day with your mum, mate?"

"He wouldn't let me leave his side all day, little devil. I even had to put his carrier in the bathroom while I took a shower."

"You love it. You know you do."

"I do." She sighed looking down into the baby's sweet face. "I have to go meet with Cuffe tomorrow morning. A business meeting, which means I can't bring my boy with me. My stomach hurts just imaging it."

"Don't worry. I'll take excellent care of him. You won't find a scratch or a ding on him, I promise."

"Won't you have paperwork or briefings to do tomorrow because of the arrest?"

"Someone else can handle it."

"I'm sure Nell wouldn't mind-"

"Someone else can handle it," Harry repeated.

It would have been a perfect time to say the words, the words she had kept locked inside her for all these years. Standing under the starlight in her new home with Harry and her son. What better way to complete the picture than taking that one last step? Ginny opened her mouth and prepared to give up that last part of herself that she had clung to for so long.

A loud horn blared through the night, taking away the noise of the crowd and the peacefulness of their moment together, along with Ginny's bout of bravery.

The villagers moved closer to the small stage at the base of the ring statue that had so entranced Ginny since her arrival in Hastom. Tonight, she and her son would become a part of that mystery and beauty.

"It goes by quickly," Harry told her. "You don't even need to say anything, just do what Sapien tells you to and it's over with like that. Then you'll both be citizens."

Ginny had more pressing concerns. "Then we'll be able to talk."

Harry smiled and squeezed her hand. "Until the sun comes up and goes back down again if you want to."

"Will there be anything…else? Besides talking, I mean?" Ginny asked playfully.

He gaped at her, mouth opening and closing before he smiled hugely and started laughing. Ginny blinked in surprise. She knew it was a silly thing to say, trying to be alluring when she currently had the sex appeal of a garden gnome, but she didn't think he'd find it this amusing.

"What's so funny?"

Harry caught his breath and pulled her close to kiss her forehead, wedging the baby tightly between them. "I think your memory is starting to come back."

"What do you-?"

Sapien Stellner took to the center of the stage at that moment and Harry pulled away reluctantly, keeping an arm around her waist. "We'll talk later. I promise," he whispered.

The councilman's words blurred together until two of them were recognizable: Ginevra Weasley. With Harry's urging, she made her way through the crowd of people with the Snitch tucked protectively to her as the villagers parted, finally reaching the steps that led her up onto the stage. Sapien smiled benevolently and took her hand to lead her to the center. The crowd watched in still silence.

"In accordance with our customs, I now ask for a show of hands in favor of Prospect Weasley becoming Citizen Weasley on this night. As she carried and birthed her newborn son during her trial, under the law he becomes a citizen tonight if she does as well. With all of Hastom here, both living now and watching in the next life, please raise your hands if you are accepting of this prospect."

Many of the hands went up immediately. Some of them took their sweet time, but eventually every hand in the square was raised. A sigh of relief escaped Ginny, as did a few tears. She tried to catch Harry's eye in the crowd, but she couldn't find him.

"We gather here tonight to witness a blessed event," Sapien continued. "Our most scared event: Watching our home become home to another. Watching as our community, our family, accepts another. Watching as the fabric of our past and our future meet with the present. Tonight, we bestow upon Ginevra Weasley and her son the title of citizen." Turning to address only her, Sapien spoke solemnly. "You have abided by our laws and proven yourself to be a young woman who exemplifies the traits that we desire of citizens of Hastom. In recognition of this, on behalf of the Council of Hastom, I extended to you and your child the honor of citizenship. Do you accept this?"

"I do," Ginny said.

"Do promise to continually uphold those traits and values we hold dear?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to do your level best to adhere to our laws and accept the consequences that come from breaking such laws?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to hold close to your heart the secret of this place, entrusting it to only those whom you would trust with your own life?"

"I do."

"Then please give me your hand." Swallowing, she did just that. With the gentlest touch, Sapien touch his wand tip over Ginny's palm until a sharp line of red blood appeared. The town elder looked down into the sling. "And now his."

Trembling slightly, Ginny lifted her son's hand up to Sapien's wand. Everything inside her wanted to run away, to keep her son away from the small pain that was to come. Even the tiniest pain seemed like far too much when it came to thinking of it being inflicted on him. Still, it was a necessary evil they'd both have to endure.

Sapien was deft with the Snitch's cut. It didn't lessen how much his startled howl of pain cut through his mother. As Ginny cuddled her son close, hoping he didn't hate her forever, Sapien turned to the statue and raised his wand to it. Slowly, the rings of the statue ceased their movement. Sapien murmured words only he could hear; with fluid ease, one of the huge colored rings detached from the hundreds of others and floated down towards Sapien's waiting hands, shrinking down in size until it was no bigger than a teacup in Sapien's grasp. He severed it cleanly in half and used his wand to create two rings in its place.

He walked back and presented the rings to her. "These rings were once whole and they belonged to a man who was dear to my soul, Emmarius Chornin. The end of his life allowed Hastom to become your home. Someday, you will not be in this world any longer, and someone else will take this ring as theirs. It is our tradition. It is our way of life for over a millennium. Please place your blood and the blood of your child upon these rings, binding them to your magic." Ginny wiped the quieting baby's hand over the cool metal first before she did so with her own ring. Their wounds healed the instant the blood touched the rings. The metal glowed fierce red for a moment before settling into burgundy. Sapien nodded his thanks and went back to the statue, floating the rings back onto it. Ginny watched in awe as both rings grew the higher up they went until they settled back amongst the others. At Sapien's command, the rings began moving once more.

He turned back to her and took her face in his hands. "Welcome home, my dear," Sapien told her quietly. With a kiss to both her cheeks, he presented her to the rest of Hastom. "It is my duty and my honor to present to you, Citizen Ginevra Molly Weasley, and her as yet unnamed son, whom we will officially call young Citizen Weasley until his moniker is chosen. Welcome them both."

The eruption of the crowd overwhelmed the baby. He cried out in protest and Ginny carefully maneuvered him out of the sling to hold over her heart. "Shh," she tried to ease him. "They're just saying hello. They just all want to say hello to you." It was the only coherent thing she was able to say for the next couple of hours. The party began anew the second Ginny stepped down from the stage and from there, it seemed like everyone in the village came up to hug her and offer words of congratulations. They swelled around her until she felt breathless. The only thing keeping her tethered was Harry's warm hand holding hers. He was waiting for her the instant her feet touched cobblestone. Through the flurry of well-wishes and compliments, of infectious music and warm foods, he was always with her.

Bart was leading the remaining crowd through a dance called the Electric Slide later that night when Ginny, tired beyond words, laid her head on Harry's shoulder.

He rested his cheek against her hair. "Ready to go home?"

"I'm the guest of honor. It's rude," she mumbled incoherently.

"You're almost unconscious at your own party. That's even ruder." He stood and lifted her into his arms.

"Wait…the Snitch…where…?"

"Nell has him. I'll bring you home and pop back here for him."

She didn't even feel their quick journey. One second, the party rang in her ears and the next she was being placed on her warm bed in the quiet of her bedroom. "I'll be right back," Harry whispered as her eyes drifted shut.

_It's too cold_, Ginny thought, tugging the blankets around her. _Why is it so cold?_

It could have been minutes or hours, Ginny wasn't sure. However long it was, Harry's voice woke her from her dreamless sleep. Opening her eyes, she saw him hunched over the bassinette.

"…and remember, it's our little secret from your mother," she heard him say. "We'll give it to her tomorrow night. Until then, it's just between the two of us, okay mate?" Harry lingered for a few moments, watching the baby hopefully fall asleep. It was something Ginny herself couldn't get enough of doing, looking on as the baby breathed with every inch of his body and twitched his hands and feet about. She could watch her son sleep for hours and never be bored by it.

Harry got his fill of the splendid sight and tiptoed away from the bassinette to his camp bed.

_Oh, that won't do at all._

"Here," Ginny whispered to him. He stopped short at her words. With a weary smile, she patted the empty space next to her on the bed.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

Nodding against her pillow, she shifted slightly to make more room for him. He seemed a bit unsure still so she tried again. "I missed you."

"I was only gone for a little while."

The fatigue she felt numbed any reservations she had. "No," she said. "You were gone much longer than that. Please…"

He nodded in understanding and shucked off his shoes before climbing fully clothed in the bed beside her, keeping a foot or two of distance away from her.

_Nope. That still won't do._

With great care, she rolled over and pressed her back against his chest, tucking his arm around her. She sighed in satisfaction, taking in the warmth he gave her in a way no blankets or quilts ever could. "That's better."

"Yeah, it is." Tightening his hold, his breath stroked the back of her neck. "Ginny?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?"

"We have dinner every night," she said simply. Sleep was beckoning to her and she had no energy for anything else.

"I mean a nice dinner. A fancy dinner. With…with candles and music and maybe even a bit of dancing, if you don't mind just moving around in a slow circle. Here at the house, while the baby's asleep."

A fancy dinner. Candles. Music. Dancing. "You mean like a date?"

Ginny felt him smile and he pulled her even closer. "Exactly like a date."

"I don't have a nice dress to wear," she argued sleepily.

"Buy one tomorrow when you're in London. Just say yes."

"Yes," she finally answered, falling asleep to the breathing of Harry and the baby.

_Alright, if everything goes according to plan_, Ginny thought as she walked through the offices at lightning speed, _I can get this meeting over within an hour or so, stop off at Madame Malkin's for a new outfit, and be home by eleven o'clock. Harry has my milk if the baby needs to eat before then and if I need to, I'll stop back at home right quick before I go shopping. I never understood how much easier Apparating makes life until I couldn't do it._

So lost in her plans for the day and the evening to come, Ginny didn't notice the glances the people around her were throwing her way until she reached the reception area outside of Barnabas Cuffe's office.

_I'm smiling like a third-year on her first trip to Madame Puddifoot's. I must look like a loon. Speaking of, I have to send a note to Luna to thank her for…_

It was only by chance that her eyes caught the headline of that morning's paper. Everything about her, including her huge grin, froze at the sight of the picture of the man posing on the front page, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, ready to make any woman swoon and tug on her hair with desire.

Except for Ginny. She didn't swoon at those eyes. She didn't feel giddiness or lust like any other witch when she saw those familiar blue eyes she used to look into as they stared down from above her, the sweaty blonde hair tickling against her face.

Lionel Dresden's eyes made her feel something entirely different. It was fear.

But as the smile melted from her face, his eyes had nothing on the terror that quaked from deep inside her belly when she read the words over his picture:

_**Love Child Shocker!**_

_**Lionel Dresden Reveals His Identity as Father of Brave Baby Boy Weasley!**_

_**Exclusive Interview on Page Three!**_


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Notes: Okay, first off, brownie points to my personal Golden Trio for all your great input and edits. Much obliged, as always. Now for the rest of you readers, the only thing I'll say about this chapter is that it is the first one where I have absolutely no idea how anyone is going to react to it and that freaks me out and fires me up in equal measure. Either way, please drop me a line and let me know. Enjoy!  
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**The Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks**

"Miss Weasley? Miss Weasley, are you alright?"

Without looking towards the pesky voice, Ginny shut her eyes and gave herself a smart slap to her cheek, ignoring the gasp in her left ear. When she blinked again, the headline of the newspaper was unchanged: Lionel's carefree smirk and a calculated wink looked back at her from the page.

_Why? Why aren't I awake yet? What kind of nightmare is this?_ Ginny thought desperately, unable to ignore the sting in her cheek. _This…This isn't happening._

"Miss Weasley, do you need to sit down? You look like you've seen a ghost."

No, not a ghost. Just the vile man who fathered her child. A man who had made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with Ginny or her son, going as far to blackmail her into keeping his identity a secret from the world, including her own family and friends.

He had taken such pains to sever his ties to the baby. Lionel was a man of immense wealth and prominence and he had used that to his advantage, trapping Ginny into signing that blasted contract that exempted him from all legal and financial obligations. Not that Ginny would have wanted him involved in any way. When Lionel had shown his true colors, Ginny was grateful in a way that the piece of parchment she signed assured that Lionel would have no influence on her boy, no way to taint the Snitch with the cold venom that ran through his veins; there had been nothing about Lionel's demeanor in New York, as she sat across from him putting her signature on the contract, which had left any inkling of doubt that he had been serious when he said he didn't want to be anyone's father.

Except that now, apparently, he had changed his bloody mind.

_That monster! What is he playing at? He can't do this! _

"Ah, if it isn't our newest star," the nasally voice of Wilhelmina Rutherford came from behind Ginny. She turned, still clutching the newspaper in her hands, to see the assistant editor of the newspaper walking towards her, wearing six-inch high heels and an alarming amount of glittery make-up for someone was not a twelve years old girl. The wings of the lavender butterfly hair clips fluttered a small breeze through her springy blonde curls. Without looking to anyone else in the room, Wilhelmina took Ginny's slack face in her hands and gave both cheeks an airy kiss. "How wonderful to see you out and about! Do you know that there were these nasty rumors that you had actually died at that Christmas ball, and that your body was being kept hidden while your distraught parents were trying to bring you back to life? Oh, the scoundrels we have in this fair business of ours."

"What…?" Ginny fumbled, distracted by both the paper she was holding and the ungodly amount of perfume now assaulting her senses, the scent lingering on her maroon jumper and black linen pants.

"Now I have strict orders from Barney Cuffe himself that we are to take excellent care of you while you prepare your scintillating articles for us. He's on holiday, you see, and I am responsible for all…Oh dear!" Wilhelmina glanced down at the day's morning edition in Ginny's shaking hands. Her lips pursed in a pout. "That must have been the last thing you expected to see today, wasn't it? Let's go into my office for a spot of tea. Sort the whole thing out between us girls?"

Under the watchful gazes of the employees of the _Prophet_, Ginny let herself be lead into Wilhelmina's office, a veritable shrine to flowers and femininity; even the fabric of the armchair Ginny sank into was lilac and dotted with roses. The air was a suffocating mix of several potpourris, making it difficult to breathe. She put her hand to her chest, wincing at the tenderness of her bosom.

Her thoughts immediately came to a screeching halt. "I…I can't stay," Ginny said. Whatever Lionel's agenda, it involved the baby. The unyielding urge to protect her child that had been hampered by her shock dissipated at once and she shot up from the chair, driven by the urge to feel her child nestled safely in her arms. "I have to go."

"But we haven't even had our tea yet," Wilhelmina bemoaned.

"I'll reschedule my meeting."

"There's a wonderful trick in my family for the perfect cup of tea."

"Wilhelmina, I really can't do this now."

"The secret is-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about tea!" Ginny shouted, her control finally snapping. "I don't care about this paper or you or anything else in this bleeding world! I just need to get home to my son!"

Instead of recoiling at Ginny's outburst, Wilhelmina only snickered from behind her desk, twirling a quill in her hand and leaning back in her chair. "Mr. Dresden did say you had quite a temper. I didn't think it would take this long to come out, though, given your reputation."

Blinking, Ginny glanced at the byline of the article in her hand:

_**Wilhelmina Rutherford**_

_**Assistant Editor**_

"This was your interview?" Ginny asked, stunned. "You put this out for the whole world to see? W-Why?"

"Because," Wilhelmina shrugged, "when one of the most powerful, wealthiest, and dare I say sexiest wizards in the world Floos and offers you an exclusive interview on the story of the year—that would be your filthy offspring, by the way—you don't quibble with questions of morality or decency. You Apparate your behind to wherever he says with a Quick-Quills Quote and a smile." She propped her shapely legs onto the desk, beaming in triumph.

Ginny raged inside at the revolting woman's references to her son. This pathetic excuse for a witch was endangering her son's welfare for…for what? A headline? A chance to be in the same room as Lionel? A rise in ranks at the paper? At the rate she was going, all Willie was going to get was a Killing Curse straight between her eyes, courtesy of the mother she was antagonizing.

"I have no idea," Ginny ground out, laying both hands on the desk and leaning in, "what on Earth you're getting out of this, but-"

"Revenge," Wilhelmina cut in.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." The grin slipped off Wilhelmina's face as she stood level with Ginny, towering slightly in her shoes. She picked up a photograph from the desk and smiled down at it. "It took some time and little luck to pull off, considering how you have Barnabas Cuffe wrapped around your pinky, but once he left me in charge of this fine publication, I finally did to you what you did to my best friend: I ruined your life for all the public to see." Turning the frame around, Ginny saw two teenage girls in matching Hogwart's uniforms. One was a younger Wilhelmina, and though she had never met the other in person, Ginny knew who she was.

"Pressley Edgecombe," she murmured to herself.

"Yes, Pressley Edgecombe. I'm grateful you know her name, given all you did to destroy her. Just a few hours after your little call-in to _Beeter's Breakdown_, she was without a job. Eight years of hard work-"

"Probably spent on her back," Ginny spat out, seeing red.

"-washed down the drain because a fat, useless former Quidditch player got bored and decided to be cute on the radio," Wilhelmina continued unabated. "She was besieged all the time: death threats, Howlers, rotten vegetables thrown at her when she walked down the street. There was no other paper that would dare hire the witch precious Ginny Weasley had branded Undesirable Number One. Her money is all but gone. She's been sacked out on my sofa since she lost her apartment. All the poor dear ever talks about nowadays around a glass of Firewhiskey is how much she hates you." Wilhelmina smiled smugly. "Press is my dearest friend in the world. I heard her plea, and I did what needed to be done." Her blonde curls started shaking as she succumbed to laughter. "With Dresden's money, if he so desired, he could probably buy off any judge in the world to make sure you never see your little bastard again."

Ginny was grateful she was born among so many children for many reasons, but never more so than at that precise moment because of the valuable lesson she learned from them as a small girl:

If you're going to wear your hair long, you better be prepared to defend it against all attacks.

The esteemed Ms. Rutherford apparently didn't have any siblings.

Ginny's hand shot out and grasped a handful of Wilhelmina's hair, tugging her forward until she was almost laying across the desk, her shrieks echoing throughout the walls. Ginny quickly cast a Silencing Charm on the room to avoid unwanted attention.

"Listen to me and listen to me carefully, you bitch," Ginny hissed over the other witch's whimpering. "After the Battle of Hogwarts—a fight I don't recall seeing you at—I saw the wizard who killed my brother lying on a cot in the courtyard outside. He was injured and wrapped in chains to prevent his escape. The guards watching him had their backs to me. Every part of me screamed out to take my wand and inflict on him the same punishment that Fred had received. But I couldn't do it. You see, I was only a girl then. Even though I loved my brother so much, and even though I had just fought in a war and watched men and women die, I still had some of my innocence left. Enough that made killing someone in cold blood too horrific to imagine." Ginny yanked harder until Wilhelmina's ear was at her lips. "I am not that innocent anymore. Especially when it involves my son."

"Please! Please don't!" The frightened woman croaked out. "I-I'm so…sorry! Please let me…AH!" Ginny shoved her back harshly. Wilhelmina fell to floor and Ginny rounded the desk to loom over her.

"Where. Is. Lionel?" Ginny asked, hovering over the trembling mass of purple and tear-stained glitter. "Tell me where to find him."

"H-He was in Geneva. Switzerland. Some kind of…of conference. Said he'd be there through the week."

_The Trolleri, _Ginny instantly thought, straightening up. _That's the hotel where he always stayed._

"He found me, contacted me. I had no idea he was your son's fath-"

Ginny smacked the side of the desk with all her might and Wilhelmina jumped, cowering further into a ball. The ache ran up from Ginny's hand all the way to her shoulder. "Don't call him that," she said, trying to collect herself and glaring down at Wilhelmina. "If I ever see you again, it will not end well for you." Ginny closed her eyes and focused on the lobby of the Swiss hotel.

* * *

><p>It was still early when she arrived at the Trolleri, not even nine in the morning. The richly lush lobby, with its navy carpeting and dark wood-paneled walls lined with moving oil paintings, was nearly empty as Ginny made her way up to the front desk. The clerk looked down past his wire-rimmed glasses and raised an eyebrow to her disheveled appearance and lack of expensive clothes or jewelry.<p>

"How can I help you?" It seemed a struggle for him to hold back a sneer. "Are you in need of directions somewhere? I'm afraid we do not sell maps of any kind."

Ginny paid no mind to the man. She had no time for such things. "I need to speak with a guest here, Lionel Dresden. Please tell him…tell him that Ginevra Weasley needs to speak with him at once."

The clerk shook his head at her. "There is no guest here by that name, and from the latest reports, the real Ginevra Weasley was lying on a beach somewhere in Crete, avoiding the public as much as humanly possible." He turned away to shuffle a pile of useless papers, putting his back to her.

Ginny wracked her brain to think of some of Lionel's old aliases that he had used when staying at the hotels where they would rendezvous, some way to let the man understand that she actually know who Lionel was and wasn't trying to just get a Portkey up to his room. "Then try Bill Sikes."

"No."

"Robert Lovelace."

"No."

"Claudius Iago."

"No."

"Moriarty James."

He finally turned around, a scowl of irritation "Miss, I do not know nor do I care who you really are. All I know is that you are standing in the lobby of this fine establishment and upsetting my delicate sensibilities with whatever ghastly brew of fragrance you are wearing. Now, if you would please-"

"Papa, look! It's Ginny Weasley!" The excited burst from the doorway distracted them, and they both looked to see a little girl in pigtails being ushered quickly out of the hotel by her father, a copy of _The_ _Daily Prophet_ tucked under his arm. "She throws the Quaffle ball in the hoops…" The girl's voice trailed awayout into the crisp Swiss morning, leaving Ginny and the clerk staring each other down once more.

It was almost admirable the way the man was able to hold himself together in the face of being humiliated by a five year-old. A slight tremor in his hand as he raised his wand was his only concession of defeat. The wispy figure of a mink emerged from the wand and darted straight through the ceiling above.

It only took a moment for Lionel to respond. The familiar sight of his Patronous, a shark, came down promptly. "Send her up," his Southern drawl commanded.

The clerk immediately handed her a Portkey. "Mr. Aaron Moor is staying on the top floor," he told her with as much dignity as he could muster. "Penthouse suite. Will you be needing anything else, miss?"

"No," Ginny said, snatching the key. It was true enough; she didn't need anything from this man.

Upon her arrival, she hardly felt the dizziness and confusion that typically accompanied this type of travel. Her thoughts were only on her child and what the man on the other side of the door wanted with him. He made no bones about his desire to cast aside the Snitch when Ginny was barely pregnant; what did he gain besides more fame and notoriety (which he had an abundance of) by coming forward?

Did he have some sort of hidden gift of Sight? Did Lionel know that everything in Ginny's world was finally coming together so he decided to turn it upside down and sideways? Did he know what a delight from above it was to her to watch her little boy kick out his little arms and legs in the excitement of an upcoming feeding? Did he somehow see how much she could laugh at the nonsense of her friends at the Falcon? Did he hear her heartbeat quicken whenever Harry took her hand and…?

Ginny swallowed and slumped against the wall next to the door. Surely, Harry would have seen the morning's paper by now. He had been standing in the kitchen with the baby on his shoulder as he prepared a cup of tea, watching and yawning as she ran all over the house, trying to be ready for an eight-thirty meeting when she had woken up at eight-ten. The last image she had of him as she turned to Apparate had been of him easing the baby into the bouncy seat on the kitchen counter, pretending to bite off the Snitch's feet. Now that he had smiled for the first time, Harry was determined to get a laugh out of him. The paper may have even been flying into the house by owl post as she left; he may have opened it the second she vanished. And even if he hadn't read the _Prophet_ this morning, what were the odds that Ron or Bart or anyone else hadn't informed him of it straightaway?

Harry would know she had lied to his face; that she had spent all these months with him and deceived him after he had asked her outright more than a few times if Lionel was her baby's father. Every denial had been for Harry's benefit, for his safety and his happiness. It made the transgressions livable in Ginny's eyes, but she couldn't know if he'd see it the same way when she tried to explain it to him.

If he even let her to begin with. Maybe he'd found someone to mind the baby and had already left. He could be a world or two away from Hastom at this very moment, burrowed deep in some secret Auror hidey-hole. And in the darkest, gloomiest part of her mind she imagined that maybe before he left, he had stopped in his study and picked up the Persem diamond ring hidden in his desk drawer, intent on seeking the forgiveness of the woman it had been meant for. Meredith would probably welcome him back with open arms with the specter of Ginny firmly eradicated from his heart and mind. The two of them could…

She was nearly sick right there on the spot. How very much she wanted to go back to Hastom and take Harry's face in her hands, to make him understand all that she had done, every lie she had told was out of love for him. But she couldn't.

_The baby_, Ginny thought, fighting to keep the tears at bay. _He comes before Harry now. You have to protect him first or none of the rest matters._

Locking her fear down as deep as she could, she lifted her hand to knock only to have the door open from the other side. A dark-skinned woman with grey eyes was bunching up her hair into a knot. Her blue dress clung tightly to her thin figure, ending high above her knees and cut low down to almost her navel. She smiled politely at Ginny, who only stared in surprise.

"Come on in. He's just cleaning himself up," she told Ginny. Grabbing a clutch purse from the side table, she squeezed past Ginny in the doorway, seamlessly taking the Portkey for herself. "There's a breakfast cart if you're hungry. He said to help yourself to anything."

"Where are you…? Should I tell him…?"

"Don't worry on it. Just tell him my boss will send him the bill later today." The Portkey activated and Ginny was just left fuming with anger. If Lionel thought a greeting from his "guest" was enough to flummox her, then maybe he didn't know her as well.

Maybe she stood a fighting chance against whatever was coming her way.

Lionel kept her waiting. It was a game. He liked his games. He wanted to see how long it would take to her to lose control. She wouldn't stoop to his level, though. Not yet. Not until she knew what he was truly after. Ginny took the time to pace around the spacious living area of the suite. Much like his apartment in London, this room was a mixture of dark and light. Sharp black tables, chairs, and sofas set against a backdrop of brilliant beige. The room was all power and business, no semblance of warmth to be found anywhere.

His pictures were there, though. Lionel always traveled with a gallery full of pictures of himself to hang in the rooms. Much like Ginny never felt like a place was home without her Arcus Violets, Lionel never seemed to be comfortable in a hotel unless he was surrounded by his glory. He was everywhere across the walls: laughing with politicians, athletes, authors, and scores of famous wizards and witches.

All through her pacing, Ginny tried to keep her focus on the task at hand. She had to know what Lionel wanted with her son, and remain steadfastly logical as she sought the information. Getting emotional and angry would only to play into Lionel's hand, something she could not afford. This was maybe the most important moment of her son's life, the one where his future would trace back to its origins. She would not fail him. She would keep him safe, away from the man who she owed her child's very existence to. And with the anger churning and boiling as far below the surface as Ginny could manage, it occurred to her suddenly, with more than tremble of panic, that if protecting her baby involved the use of the Killing Curse…well, it would not be an issue today.

He came into the room behind her. She cocked her head in profile when she heard his footsteps on the parquet floor.

_Focus. Stay focused. Don't let him rile you up. You have everything in the world to lose._

"Hello, sweetheart." His voice curdled her blood. She forced her body to turn and face him fully. He wore sweatpants and nothing else, save for a towel around his neck. His blonde hair was still wet from the shower and the water dripped down the well-defined valleys of his arms and chest. But it was his smile—the same smile that used to turn her brain off and melt her insides—that infuriated her the most.

_STAY! FOCUSED!_

"Do us a favor and call me by my proper name," she said in greeting. "I won't be treated as your pet any longer."

His smile only deepened and he walked to the breakfast cart, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "I always liked that about you, the feistiness. Some redheads don't live up to their billing, but not you." He took a sip and winked. "Ginny."

She tried not to let it show how much she hated him, tried with every cell in her body. Nothing good could come of setting him off right out of the gate.

"Would you like anything to eat? I do hope that Mari told you that you were welcome to anything."

"She did. She also told me to tell you the bill for her services would arrive later," she replied, unable to keep the retort to herself.

Lionel only smiled around his coffee cup. "Well, it would be ungentlemanly of me to say anything except that she was worth every penny of it." He set down his cup and folded himself onto one of the sofas. "Kind of like you, I suppose."

Ginny followed his lead, sitting on the armchair opposite him, and reminding herself with every step she took that Lionel's murder was only the last of all possible last resorts. No need to jump the gun on it so early.

"As my money was useless in our…relationship," she said, "I'm sorry I can't say the same."

"That is true. Though if you think about it, you were the one that really came out the winner in this whole thing."

"How do you figure that?"

"Your bouncing baby boy, of course. Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. **Our **bouncing baby boy." He reached behind him to grab a bagel from the cart, eating it in pieces as he continued. "Does he have a name yet? My sources hadn't heard anything yet. If you're stuck, the Dresdens have many fine, proud names to choose from. We have Thaddeus, Marshall, Jackson. Jackson is my personal favorite; lots of nicknames to choose from with that one. Or we could follow family tradition and name him after his father."

"He doesn't have a name and he will most certainly not be taking it from anyone associated with you when he gets it." Her temper flared at the mere thought of anyone calling her little Snitch by the name Lionel.

"Now, now," Lionel placated. "No need to lose your cool just yet. We've got business to discuss and I imagine you have some questions for me."

"I do, actually. Most of them just start one way: Why? Why did you come forward? Why did you give that interview in my paper?"

"That was a nice touch, wasn't it? Shitting in your own backyard, so to speak. The reporter is a first-class moron, but the piece actually came out quite nice. 'I will work with everything inside me to build a life with Ginny and our child'. That was my favorite quote."

"We had a contract," Ginny said through clenched teeth. "You blackmailed me into signing away my right to name you my child's father in exchange for you never using the memories you stole from me against the people I loved!"

His hand barely moved from the back of the sofa and a few items flew in from the other room, landing in front of them on the coffee table. One of them was a rolled up parchment and the other was vial of swirling misty material, almost invisible. Lionel snatched them both up before she could move. He held up the parchment first.

"This," he began, "is the contract that you signed." He tossed it and she caught it with both hands, unfurling it as he kept talking. "Everything in there is accurate and all of the consequences for breaking it that we spoke of in New York hold true. Or would have. If you had bothered to read the fine print at the bottom."

Ginny instantly began scanning the document until her eyes caught the miniscule passage under the signature line that Lionel was referring to. Her heart hammered as she read:

_All provisions of this agreement are hereby deemed unenforceable by law unless both parties and/or signatories of said agreement present themselves jointly before a member of the judicial branch of the North American Continental Magical Republic held in good standing to verify on the record the provisions of the agreement. Such presentation must be made no later than thirty days after signature or…_

Ginny felt the useless paper flutter out of her hands to the floor. "It was all a lie."

"Essentially, yes."

"My family was never in any danger," she continued, dumbfounded. "You never could have hurt them if I told anyone you were the one that got me pregnant. I-I lied to everyone for nothing."

"Family…Family is a curious thing," Lionel mused. Ginny hardly heard him over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "They can bless you with unbelievable strength. Yours sure did. But they can also curse you with weakness. The more you love in this life, the more vulnerable you make yourself and you, Miss Weasley, have a lot of love in your life."

"Why did you even go to the trouble of drawing up the damn thing if it was nothing?"

"Because I needed a way, as full-proof way as possible, to guarantee your silence without actually doing anything. Your family and the people you're close are not ones that I was interested in making enemies of. They could have made my international work here in Europe and beyond very, very difficult if I was ever suspected of threatening you in any way. So to use them as my bargaining chip made the most sense. How could they hurt me if you were too afraid to go to them? Besides, if the thing had actually been filed, then some judge or a paper pusher with a pencil up his ass would have something they could use as a chip to cash in a favor from me; if I'm giving something away, I except to be paid with more than silence.

"It was still risky to have you so out in the open, though. Despite my best efforts, we'd been seen and photographed together. When you started to get fat, people would make assumptions. I just had to trust that you loved your family enough to let the whole world believe the worst of you if you were ever asked who the father was. But then you went ahead and answered my prayers." He drained the rest of his coffee in a single gulp. "Well, the prayers I would've said if I believed in them. Going off to Hastom…I didn't think you had it in you to face that place, let alone stay there. Especially when you found out who took up residence there a few years ago. You always seem to surprise me."

Ginny rubbed a hand over her face, trying to come to terms with the last few minutes; trying to comprehend that if she had just forced herself to read through a few more lines of that contract, this could have all been avoided, and the fact that the fear that had been settled deep in the pit of her belly for all those months had been for naught.

"All of this reasoning of yours," she spit out, "only tells me what a complete monster you are. It still doesn't answer why you came forward after all you did."

Lionel nodded in agreement. "Well, here's where the irony kicks in: family. The answer to your 'why' is family, specifically my mother, the redoubtable Angelique Bedford-Dresden. The finest witch Louisiana has ever produced and overjoyed to tears that her only child has blessed her with a grandson."

"How does she know…?" Ginny closed her eyes and answered her own question. "The Quidditch ball. All of the press afterwards."

"She was vacationing in Rome when you became the most famous mother in our world. Poor woman almost had a heart attack when she saw the pictures of you lying on that ballroom floor. We had been caught so many times in the press during our little affair that I had to tell her about you. About how in love I was with you and that even though it crushed me, you were so dedicated to your career that you didn't want to be confirmed as my great love. Too much of a hassle for you to be the witch who snared Lionel Dresden. Also, you were never really impressed by her status and didn't want to take the time to meet her. Boy, it really stuffed her goat to see how upset I was when you ended things with me." He chuckled to himself before sighing. "She's a crafty old bird, though. Instead of coming to me, she went to my people. They squealed like pigs at the slaughterhouse, whiney little cowards. Confirmed the timeline of our break-up happened before you conceived and that was all she wrote. She's been on me ever since to meet with you and get things squared away so she can start spoiling her grandbaby rotten. He's enrolled in preschool already in New Orleans and the nursery is just waiting for him."

Ginny's head shot up. "What are you talking about? Do you…Do you honestly think we would go with you anywhere?"

Lionel leaned forward and took the vial from the table, holding it in between his thumb and forefinger. "Now before we go any further, I have a proposition for you." Ginny scoffed and got up from the couch, hardly believing his words. "I know, I know. I must think you're two sandwiches shy of a picnic if I'm throwing that phrase out there again. But I don't, I truly don't and I'd like you to hear me out." Her silence was all she'd give him so he continued. "You marry me and you and our son come home with me to New Orleans. Your son wants for nothing for the rest of his life. You have every comfort known to Wizardry at your beck and call. My momma gets to shower her grandson with kisses and I get to brand myself as a family man. My marketing director tells me that it could quadruple my sales next quarter. Then, in six months or six years, whenever my mother shuffles off this mortal coil, we can quietly divorce. You never have anything to do with me again and you are paid very, very handsomely for as long as you live. In exchange for all that, I offer you this." He held up the vial for her inspection. She stopped short as she realized what it was:

Her memories.

"You can have these back. Your family can be safe and sound while we write our version of happily ever after. Personally, I think you come out of this deal looking pretty good, and we both know I'm not what is known as a generous negotiator." He gave the vial in his hand a tiny shake. "So what do you say?"

It surprised Ginny how easy the decision was, much like it had been in another hotel, only in New York. There was no hesitation then because there had been no choice. Just like now.

"If my family has to endure public humiliation, and perhaps even legal difficulties, to ensure that you never go near my son," she told Lionel, "then I'll have to hope my parents and my brothers can forgive me someday for being stupid enough to let you get as close to me as you did." Ginny pulled herself up to her full height, her words quiet but with the power of a forge fire behind them. "You will never know what my son looks like. You will never know his scent and you will never, ever lay a hand on him. I would rather let them brand a Dark Mark on me than have your wedding ring on my finger. Mark my words, if I have to, I will fight every hour of every day to keep you out of our lives."

Lionel raised his eyebrow when she was done. "That sounds definitive."

"Because it is. No deals this time."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I can't say that I'm truly shocked by your answer, but I am disappointed. I had at least hoped we could come to an understanding that suited both of our needs." Looking down at the small container, he shrugged his shoulders a little. "Oh well," he said and promptly tossed the vial straight at Ginny.

This catch she fumbled with. When the vial was eventually secured in her grasp, all she could do was blink at him. "What is this?" Ginny finally asked.

"Uh, your memories. Man, they are right. Women really do lose about twenty percent of their brain capacity when they give birth."

"But why…why would you give them back for nothing?" Taking no chances, she immediately placed the vial in her pocket. A horrible thought occurred to her. "You have copies, don't you? Hidden somewhere and ready to-"

"Memories, despite the best efforts of many wizards before me, cannot be duplicated. They can be sold, stolen, and screwed with seven ways from Sunday, but they cannot be copied. If you don't believe me—which I doubt you do—you can have it verified by someone you actually trust." Lionel stood and tossed the towel onto the couch, keeping several feet of distance between them. "They're more of a hindrance to me now than anything so they're yours."

Nothing about this seemed right. Lionel had just willingly given away his biggest card to play. That was as natural to him as fish living on land. Something else was going on.

"Why did you give them back to me?" Ginny asked him warily.

"Because, technically, what I did to you was a little less than legal. I needed to get rid of the evidence of it since I have to appear the most upright of citizens when I go to court to get sole custody of my son."

He could have been talking about the weather or a restaurant he had just eaten at. His tone, his posture, the look in his eyes—the life of Ginny's son meant next to nothing to him.

"You can't do that," Ginny heard herself say, amazed at the calmness of her voice considering the rage erupting inside her.

"Actually I can. My paternal rights, as we've discovered today, have never been severed. Any court in the land will tell you I have just as much right to be with our son as you do." Ginny bristled at him calling the Snitch their son. "And more often than not, when the mother is proved to be unfit or a danger to the child in any way, custody will be awarded to the child's father."

She laughed scornfully. "I dare you to go into any courtroom and try to prove I am unfit. I have been with that little boy every single day of his life and he is beautiful, healthy, and happy!" Her emotions began to creep up from her body, spewing out with her words. "I am a good mother!"

"That is something I have no doubt of," Lionel agreed gently, crossing his arms in front of him. "However, you are also a mother with a history of mental illness that required you to be under supervised care." Ginny gasped and stepped back, as if stung by his hand. "You have a history of harming yourself-"

"I have not…not in years, Lionel! I haven't thought that way in years!"

"-not to mention, your behavior has not always exactly been what one might call 'virginal' by our standards. How many men were there before me? After me? During your time with me?"

"And you, what about you? How many different ones this month? This week? I bet you have one booked for tonight already!"

"It won't matter what I've done. I have the money, sweetheart. Not the kind you're playing with now that you're a little star. The kind that employs tens of thousands of people. The kind that unlocks every door of every building of every country in the world. The kind makes a world leader or tears one down, whichever one I'm feeling like doing when I wake up in the morning. To put it in the simplest of terms for you, the kind of money that buys the power to do whatever the hell I want!" Lionel's face darkened until his eyes were almost back before he smiled maliciously, stalking her as she tried to step away. "All I'll have to do to win is walk into that courtroom with a clean suit, watching with a smile as my lawyer tears you to shreds. And just in case you were counting on your newfound citizenship to save you, think again. Hastom doesn't harbor criminals. If you're compelled by law to turn my son over to me, they won't stop it from happening." He grabbed her wrists and tugged her forward until she was pressed against his chest, too stunned to do anything but stare up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "My offer is still on the table. You chose to do things the hard way the last time we were at an impasse. That's just how you're molded. The hard way is your nature. But if you want to see your baby grow up, maybe you want to try things the easy way this time."

He shoved Ginny away and she stumbled back against the couch. Breathing heavily, her tears dried as soon as the thought that had been horrifying to her before today was the only thing she saw. Summoning every fiber of anger flowing through her veins as she stared up at Lionel and understanding her mother in a way she never had before, Ginny reached into her bag for her wand, prepared to go to the very edge of extreme to protect her child.

Except the wand wasn't there.

Her heart caught in her throat as she groped around through papers, loose Knuts, and make-up, but there was no wood in the bag.

"Mari nicked it from you on her way out." Lionel shook his head, unable to hide his snicker. "Figured you might lower yourself to violence. It's waiting for you at the front desk. That fruit bowl by the door is the spare Portkey, it'll take you down. You won't get back up here, though. My lawyers are filing in court as we speak so you should be getting some paperwork pretty soon. I don't think you'll have a problem paying for a lawyer with all of that bank you're making now." He held a hand up in goodbye and strode away. "If I don't hear from you about the proposal, I'll see you in court." She hadn't even managed to climb up from the floor when he spoke again. "Oh, and Ginny? I hope you and the dashing Mr. Potter don't have any notions of trying to hide my son from me because you won't be able to. All you'll do is piss me the hell off." With that, he disappeared back into his lair.

She didn't feel her legs when she could finally stand or the tears that flowed down her cheeks, though she tasted the salt on her lips. Sight she still had. It registered when she walked haltingly to the Portkey and glanced at the clock on the wall. It read just after ten-thirty.

_Two hours. Two hours for my entire life to fall apart. That's a new record for me._

* * *

><p>Even the first time she had entered Harry's house, she hadn't been this nervous. Back then, her biggest fear was seeing some photo or keepsake of Meredith's lying in plain view. Now as she walked up to the backdoor from the Apparition point, her fear was the unknown. She had no idea what she'd find in the house, or rather who. Maybe Harry was still there, maybe he had left. If he was gone, the Snitch was probably gone as well, being minded by someone. Ginny didn't know which idea caused her more unease. She needed both of them now, in equal measures, more than she ever had before.<p>

The door creaked something awful as she opened it. Quietly and slowly, she made her way through the messy kitchen into the living room on tiptoes, afraid if she even took in too large a breath disaster would strike once more. What was left of her stomach dropped to the floor when she saw the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ sitting haphazardly on the couch. She sank down next to it with a small whimper, more certain than ever that Harry had already left.

_Well_, she thought in misery, _at least the last time I saw him he was happy._

The footsteps from the floor above startled her. With her retrieved wand raised, Ginny could only watch in awe as Harry descended down the stairs.

"Oh Godric, it's you," she moaned, a sense of hope filling her and rejuvenating her. He was still here. He hadn't vanished. Surely that meant…

"Why do you have your wand out?" Harry asked in a low voice.

There was no anger in his eyes, but there was no happiness in them either at the sight of her. Not like last night, or even this morning. There was nothing in them as he looked down at her, one hand gripping the banister so tightly, his knuckles were white.

Coldness swept over her once more as she put her wand on the table. "I-I was frightened. I didn't know if you were still here."

"I was just upstairs with the baby." He held up an empty bottle. "He got hungry and you weren't back yet."

"I…I had to go see Li-," Harry flinched. "Um, him. You fed the baby?" Ginny asked quickly to cover her stumble.

If he had been at all warring with his emotions, one had finally emerged victorious. His eyes narrowed to almost nothing behind his glasses and Ginny swore she saw the wooden bar he was holding start shaking.

"Did you think I wouldn't take care of a helpless child just because even thinking about his mother turns my stomach? My last name is not Dursley, Ginny." He set off down the stairs and headed to the kitchen.

With her heart collapsing inside her, Ginny knew it would be so easy to let him walk away. He had every right and reason to not want to listen to her voice after what he had learned about her. It would be easier for the coming fight ahead with Lionel if she wasn't distracted by anything, and the ever-changing nature of her relationship with Harry would definitely consume her time and her thoughts. It would be easier for all of them probably if she could let him go now. But Lionel had been right about one thing today:

Doing the hard thing was her nature. And if the hard thing was getting Harry to even look at her, then she wouldn't run away from it. Not after the promise of what the last two nights meant to her.

She didn't approach him straightaway when she stepped into the kitchen. Ginny made sure he could have his space. Already, bent over the sink and scrubbing something, Harry's back was rigid beneath his shirt.

"Please let me explain." He didn't acknowledge her, but he didn't Apparate away either. "I should have told you," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the water. "A million times I should have had the decency to tell you."

He turned the faucet off but kept his back to her. "So why didn't you? Why did I find out from a newspaper when we've seen each other almost every day for over six months?"

"Because Lionel took memories from me without my knowledge when we together. Terrible things about my brothers and…and about you from just after the war. About things your counselor had you tell me. The things you had nightmare about. H-He said he'd release them to the public if I ever told anyone that he was…" Harry hadn't moved an inch so she continued. "Nell was the only one who knew the truth and she was bound by oath not to say anything. I never thought L-Lionel would come forward. After I told him I was pregnant, he wanted me to have an abortion. When I didn't go through with it, he blackmailed me. In New York, right before I saw you. After that everything just got so out of hand, with moving to Hastom and starting over here. All I wanted was to forget about him. Just have my beautiful child and…and try to find my way with you again." Ginny inched forward, desperately needing some contact between them, until she was right behind him, close enough to hear his harsh breathing, and slowly raised her hand to touch his shoulder. "I never meant to hurt you. The only thing I wanted was to keep you from being vilified; I didn't care what happened to me. Harry, I am so sorry for-"

Harry whirled around, knocking a stack of dirty cups from the counter as he did. She jumped back in fright when she saw his face. The look he was giving her…Harry had been facing away from Ginny when he'd killed Voldemort so she hadn't seen what had probably been years of rage and torment fixed along his jaw and his eyes. But she was getting a taste of it now.

"You don't know what that word means!" Harry screamed at her, walking towards her. She backed up steadily into the living room as he kept pace. "You're supposed to stop doing the things you have to apologize for or it doesn't mean anything! Not do them all over again and expect that things will be okay this time!"

"I know I lied, but-"

"For…for him! For Dresden!"

"No!"

"Of course you did! He told you to so you did!"

"I was trying to pro-"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Harry roared. He cast a quick glance up the stairs and backed away from her, running his fingers violently through his hair. "I swear I will lose my mind if you say that again!"

"Harry, please listen to me!" Ginny begged tearfully, following him this lap around the room. "We can't…We have to…sort all this out later. He-He's going to try to take him! Lionel...he's going to try to take the Snitch away! He'll say that I'm-I'm unfit as a mother in a court and he might actually-"

Harry stopped so suddenly that she collided with him. Her touch seemed to burn him, though, because he walked straight to the fireplace on the other side of the room. "Maybe the esteemed Mr. Dresden is right," he said, staring down into the grate.

"W-What?" Ginny asked, rooted with shock. Any notion she'd had that resolving things between her and Harry was manageable began to fade away.

"You were going to kill him." He pointed up to the ceiling. "You were going to kill your child because Dresden told you to. You said it yourself."

Her despair morphed into anger at his sickening presumption. "I didn't say that!"

"You told him you were pregnant, he told you to get an abortion that you didn't go through with. Those were your words, not five minutes ago!"

"So? I didn't-"

"That means that you had made an appointment that you didn't go through with, Ginny. It means that a part of you actually considered…" He groaned in disgust rather than say the words.

"You," she countered, balling up her hands in fists, "were **not** there! You have no idea what I was thinking or feeling that day in that healer's office! Ask Nell. She was on call that day; she spoke to me and saw how much just being in that room was destroying me! After I talked to her, everything made sense and I have spent every waking moment since then trying to make it up to my son for one instant of weakness!"

Harry sniffed and wiped his hand over his face before looking at her again. "Let's say she hadn't been there that day," he said. Ginny looked away. It was a question she never liked asking herself. "What would've happened if it was some other healer who had come into the room, tired and overworked; someone who didn't look to see if you were upset or not? Would you have drunk down the potion they brewed for you? Gone home to your lord and master whose will you yielded to? Stayed with him? Been his little whore for now and ever after?"

Wandless magic had never come naturally to Ginny, so she was quite shocked with how easily the Blasting Curse flew from her hand straight at Harry's head. He ducked only just in time and the spell blew a huge, earth-shattering hole into the wall behind him. The whole house shook for a few seconds. Harry hadn't even started to rise when the Snitch's wails reached them downstairs.

Ginny turned and fled blindly up the stairs, sure she would be sick with grief and anger. How could Harry say those things to her, think those things about her when only hours ago he had been holding as they slept, his hand curled in hers?

_Maybe he's a psychic. Maybe he knows deep down that you ask those questions of yourself from time to time. You just never wait to hear the answer. _

Ginny pressed her hands to her ears to stifle her thoughts. "Shut up! Shut up!" She whispered as she tracked her son's cries. She nearly fell into the nursery in her haste to get to him. Harry must have placed him in his crib. It was the first time he had slept in there. The baby was screaming ferociously, arms and legs flailing about, the color of his hair changing as fast as the spin of a fortune wheel at a fair.

"Shhh," Ginny soothed raggedly, picking him up with shaking hands. His sleeper became moist with her own tears as she tucked his head under her chin and she hated herself anew. "It's okay, sweet boy. Mummy's here. I'm sorry the loud noises scared you. You're safe; she'll keep you safe and sound. You don't need to cry." She patted his back and hummed as best she could, dropping kisses all over his head as his cries continued unabated, every one a twisted serrated knife to her heart. Her pain had become her child's pain, the cardinal sin of any parent. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear.

"That's good," Ginny heard Harry say loudly from behind her; rather than turn to face him, she focused her eyes on the elegant script of the letter "P" that marked the crib's headboard. "That's good that you're starting to apologize to him already. It's probably best that he gets used to hearing that from you."

Ginny forced her hands not to grip the baby's warm body against hers too tightly, lest she break him over the viciousness resonating from Harry's voice. The poor boy was already screaming his head off from being disturbed by a nasty row; she couldn't imagine what he'd sound like with broken bones.

"I mean, just think of all the things you'll have to apologize for as he grows up with you." He didn't scream or shout, but his words were weighted down by pain and anger "Someday you'll tell him, 'I'm sorry we don't see your uncles and your grandparents more often; I fucked up my life so much I had to move to a world they can only visit once month.' Then another time you can say, 'Mummy is sorry you didn't make any professional rosters in the Quidditch League; I don't know when and how to keep my trap shut when I talk about the sport so I just end up pissing everyone off in my column and you get to bear the brunt of it.' Maybe you'll even be lucky enough to be able to say, 'Son, Mummy wishes you could keep seeing that lovely witch, but you see what happened was years ago, I was a complete and utter slag and I screwed her father until her mother walked in on us. Christmas supper would just be too awkward, right?' That'll be nice, won't it?"

"Shhh," Ginny murmured again to the Snitch, trying to block out Harry's hateful words that were loud enough to be heard over the baby's crying. How dare he? Did he think it was funny? Did he not understand that Ginny had nightmares about someday having to actually say things like that, and a hundred other versions, to her son? Loving her Snitch and being his mother was the one pure thing she had in this world, free from any type of regret or shame, the one thing that was hers and no one else's. Her control fought against its leash, teeth gnashing and growling.

If he said one more thing…

"But maybe you'll be selfish and just keep the boy locked away in Hastom, away from the world you ran from! He'll get to hide out here forever with his coward mother and never get the chance to-"

The leash snapped and so did she.

"YOU'RE NOT HIS FATHER!" Ginny turned and screamed at him. Harry stood stock still, his eyes wide and lifeless. "HE'S NOT YOURS! WHAT IS IT TO YOU WHAT KIND OF LIFE HE HAS WITH ME?"

She didn't wait for his response. All the fight left her when the last word left her lips, leaving only deep shame in its wake. She turned away and slumped down to the floor; she leaned her head against the crib rails as she sobbed, her son almost quaking in her arms.

_Oh Godric_, Ginny thought when the fog finally cleared somewhat from her mind a moment later. _Why did I say that? That…I shouldn't have…Harry…_

Pulling herself up to her feet with one hand, she took a deep breath, hoping the baby would relax now that the screaming was over. His hearing was so sensitive, even if he hadn't understood the words themselves, he certainly understood enough to know that that they were awash in anger and to be frightened by them. If he wasn't exactly relaxed now, then at least he was wearing himself out. His eyelids drooped and the wrinkles on his little red face eased. The locks of his hair faded to ginger when he succumbed to a fitful sleep against her shoulder. As gently as she could, so as not to wake him again, she turned to the door.

It was empty.

"Harry?" Ginny rasped quietly, walking out into the hallway. There was no answer. Searching the rooms upstairs offered nothing so she made her way carefully downstairs. "Harry…? Are you…?" It was useless. She must have missed the crack of his Apparition amidst her tears. "No. Please, no," she whispered, looking out through the windows of the living room to see if he was by the dock. That was empty as well, as she had known it would be.

Harry was gone.

With a weary body that felt like it had been awake for days and a soul that felt stained beyond any washing, Ginny laid down on the couch, settling her son over her heart. "Rest," she told herself. "Just rest and…and it won't hurt as much."

Her eyes wouldn't cooperate. They stared vacantly at the clock on the fireplace mantle. The hands were pointed to 11:47.

_Look at that. Beat the old record already._


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: And one year later, here we are, twenty-two chapters strong. Thanks to everyone for all the support and to my beta crew for keeping me focused and on point throughout this difficult chapter. Please let me know what you think as we get ready to wrap this up. **

_****_

_**Ginny looked around the packed room, the music and celebration roaring in her ears. People kept coming up to her, waiting to talk about the game and her spectacular play, but all she wanted to do was set her eyes on Harry.**_

_**Where was he? It had been hours without any sign of him. Bad enough that bloody Snape's detention had made him miss the greatest comeback his team—may be any team in the history of Hogwarts—had ever had, but now to make him miss the victory party as well? **_

_**There were many words (and more than a few spells) Ginny would be happy to hurl at the greasy-haired git of a professor. All that would accomplish though would be Ginny getting as many detentions as Harry, probably more. **_

_**Hmm…maybe they'd share them. Maybe she's end up sitting alone in a classroom with just Harry. Maybe someone would, perhaps, place some of Fred and George's Regenerating Rash Cream on Snape's chair and he'd have to go to the Hospital Wing, leaving her and Harry with nothing to do but-**_

"_**Oi! Earth to Ginny!" Ron sidled up beside her, two ham sandwiches in one hand and the silver Quidditich Cup tucked under his arm. Ginny had no doubt it would join him in his bed that night. "You're still up in the air during the match, aren't you?"**_

"_**Uh, yes," Ginny covered quickly for her distraction. "Haven't gotten off the broom in my head yet."**_

"_**Nor should you. That was a bloody good catch. Vicki Krum probably wouldn't have been able to grab that Snitch."**_

_**Ginny blushed a little at the compliment. She had been lucky, really. Her Seeking skills were quite rusty and it had been pure luck that Cho Chang hadn't seen the Snitch hovering near her right foot. Ginny had had to let far easier catches go earlier in the match until the point differential favored them and she had needed every inch of her small frame to reach out to grab the fluttering gold ball. She could practically still feel it in her hand. **_

_**And the sound of Cho's growl of frustration when the whistle blew would conjure many a Patronus for Ginny in the years to come. **_

_**The only blemish to the day was the fact that Harry hadn't been out there flying with her; hadn't even been outside the castle to see it. She would have given anything in the world for him to have been there. Quidditch was the one thing he had in his life these days to distract him from whatever fresh hell Voldemort had waiting up the pike. He had told her so himself on one of their walks back from practice and now Snape and McGonagall had taken it away. Of course, Harry deserved some punishment for Draco's injuries; he didn't make any excuses for being stupid to use one of the Half-Blood Prince's spells without knowing what it could do. But to rob him of Quidditch…it was ghastly. **_

_**There had been a few times when she had caught him staring forlornly as she, Katie, and Demelza walked out of the Common Room in the evening to get in extra practices, Dean happily trailing along with them, that she had almost quit in protest. Harry was watching as she took his position away from him and it made her feel so terrible, so small, and oh so guilty. The only thing that stopped her was the thought of the years and years (and years and years) of torture she'd receive from her brothers, especially Ron, if she gave up on Quidditch. **_

_**See? Harry James Potter was making her seriously consider giving up playing the sport she had been created for. Who had she been kidding when she told Hermione she was over him?**_

_**Ron finally drifted off to impress the Creevey brothers, leaving Ginny to make a lap around the snack table, glancing up every once in a while to the door to see if it would open. It was after two o'clock. Surely Snape couldn't keep him in the dungeons all day. He couldn't stand to be around Harry for that long a period of time. **_

_**She needed to see Harry so badly, to see his face light up when he learned they had won by her catch. All those walks back from the pitch; the dinners together laughing over the twins' latest invention; the quiet studying in the Common Room, sharing a sofa or a table together. It couldn't all just be in her mind. It wasn't. He sought her out just as much, if not more, these days. He could do all those things with Ron or Hermione, but he didn't. He chose to do them with her.**_

_**Harry chose her.**_

_**Her nerves were trying to crawl out of her belly through her pores and no amount of deep breathing was settling them. Nothing could make this wait worse.**_

"_**Hey Gin."**_

_**Wonderful. Just what she needed right now.**_

_**She forced a smile on her face. He had scored four goals today, after all. "Hi Dean."**_

"_**Great party, isn't it?"**_

"_**Yeah, it is."**_

"_**Thirsty?" He held up a glass for her. "Got one for you. Gillywater. I remember how you liked it."**_

"_**No, I'm fine thanks." She had only drunk it that one time with him because he had gone to so much trouble to plan a picnic for them at the beginning of the term back when they had been…**_

_**Oh bollocks. **_

_**Dean shifted back and forth nervously and Ginny shook her head in annoyance. He actually thought that just because they had won a championship on the same team (owed to nothing more than the fact that they couldn't legally fly with only Katie and Demelza as Chasers) that the two of them still had a chance?**_

"_**Listen," he began, "I've been thinking a lot about what went wrong between us lately and I think I figured it out."**_

_**Yes, so had she. Dean treated her like glass, never got her riled up about anything, and didn't have eyes that reminded her of fresh pickled toad. In other words, he wasn't-**_

"_**Harry!"**_

_**Ginny whipped her head around so fast that the end of her plait stung her cheek. Ron was standing in front of him, holding the cup out for inspection, but Harry's eyes were roaming around the room for something else. The last bit of need that had been holding her back from celebrating this momentous occasion faded away and she knew then that nothing in the world would feel as good as putting her arms around him right now. **_

_**Taking off through the boisterous crowd, Ginny raced toward Harry as fast as she could, beaming even as she felt sharp pinpricks of desire and longing nip at her stomach and chest. She caught his eye just before she launched herself at him, meddling brother and the dozens of others with them be damned, and hoped with all her might that he'd catch her.**_

_**He didn't.**_

_**Harry backed away quickly and Ginny was left there standing with her arms wide open, the frozen smile melting off her face. What was happening? Harry was…he was supposed…these past weeks…she wasn't just…?**_

"_**What's wrong with you, Ginny?" He studied her quizzically before smirking. "Did a Bludger get you in the head today? You didn't honestly think I would kiss you?"**_

_**She had. She truly had. Her arms fell limp to her side and she wrapped them around herself, suddenly very, very cold. Why was this happening?**_

_**He laughed at her silence. "Oh, poor Ginevra. Didn't those storybooks you read about me as a little girl tell you? Harry Potter doesn't kiss whores. That's what you are, aren't you? The Whore of Gryffindor? The Gryffinwhore."**_

"_**GRYFF-IN-WHORE! GRYFF-IN-WHORE! GRYFF-IN-WHORE!" The entire room broke out in the loud chant yet it did nothing to deafen the dull roaring in Ginny's ears and she shriveled into herself as deep as she could. Harry simply smiled wider.**_

"_**Don't worry, though. Just because I wouldn't let you lay a hand on me, even if it would bring my parents back from the grave, doesn't mean I don't know someone who would be more than happy to take a piece of yourself from you."**_

_**Harry turned her by the shoulder until she was facing away from him to look straight into Lionel's eyes. The blonde wizard gripped the handle of a gray pram with both hands. Ginny could hear small whimpers and cries coming from inside and she lurched forward, only to have Harry's grip tighten painfully on her shoulders in restraint.**_

"_**It's alright, darling," Lionel said as he started to walk away from her with her son. "I'll send you a picture of him every couple of years."**_

"_**NNNNOOOO!"**_

* * *

><p>Ginny shot up from the bed, soaked in sweat and the front of her nightshirt stained with milk. The Snitch wailed from the little crib Mrs. Nettles had given her for the hotel room and Ginny stood on shaky legs to fetch him, gathering his tiny body close to hers as she sat them both down on the bed.<p>

Hastily, she freed her breast enough so he could latch on and winced at the urgency of his draw. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You were hungry, weren't you? I can't believe I didn't hear you." It always struck her in these moments how fragile he was and how strong she needed to be for him.

"I'm glad you're eating better. You had Mummy and Auntie Nell worried for a few days. I know things are…different now, but you shouldn't let that affect your growing. That's all you should be worried about, getting a roly-poly belly that jiggles when you laugh. I know that neither of us has had much to smile about lately." Ginny did her best to hold back her sigh. "It would please Mummy ever so much if you would give her a smile. Just a little one would do. Mummy might even give you a chocolate frog or two if you can manage it, even though she'd kick herself later."

The baby responded by closing his eyes and suckling harder. Ginny understood him perfectly. She fell into silence, letting her son enjoy his midnight snack while her thoughts drifted through the past few weeks and how different things truly were.

It actually wasn't that farfetched that she hadn't heard the Snitch crying; sleep was a currency she wasn't being paid in lately. Between caring for the baby, getting settled at the Green Swallow Inn, and spending every spare moment either getting her new house ready for her arrival or preparing for the custody hearing that would determine whether or not Ginny was an adequate mother, there was hardly any time for Ginny to focus on mundane things like eating or sleeping. The fact that sleeping only brought on nightmares of memories mixed with horror, like the one that had awoken her that night, didn't help matters much.

"I like this room, don't you?" She forced as much cheer into her voice as she could, fingering the baby's foot. "This isn't our first stay here, you know. We were in this room when Mummy came to Hastom last summer and you were in my belly. Just an itty-bitty thing, really. No bigger than a button and yet everything changed with you. Do you know that? Do you know how much different everything in Mummy's life is now?"

Of course he didn't. He wasn't even three months old, the poor boy. All he knew was when he needed milk, when he needed to shut his eyes, when he needed his nappy changed, and when he needed a cuddle.

_That's not true and you know it. He knows very well how different things are in his world. He knows that he's not sleeping in his bassinette. He knows there are too many people puttering around this place, even with all the Silencing Charms. He knows that Harry isn't…_

Ginny glanced down quickly, hoping her son hadn't somehow managed to hear the name she had just thought. Three weeks since they had last seen the man and the baby still wailed endlessly and changed his hair to midnight black if anyone so much as whispered Harry's name in his presence. It was also the only thing that would get him to shift his colors anymore. The locks of his hair grew just a little bit each day but they remained the same dark copper color he had been born with.

It had been the right decision, at first. The day she had last seen Harry, when Nell and Bart had burst into the lake house a little after twelve o'clock, hair disheveled and clothes hastily thrown on (after what looked like an early afternoon attempt at procreating) to find her still as a statue on the couch with the baby and tear-swollen eyes, seeing Harry again had been the last thing in the world she could have done. She didn't have the strength for it. Even thinking of the words he had said to her brought choking sobs to her throat. Numbness was her only defense against the throbbing lashes of agony that threatened her from all sides and she clung to it as tightly as she could. All she was able do that day was watch as Bart set off to find Harry, leaving Nell to lead Ginny and the baby back to her and Bart's small cottage. The healer spent the day coaxing food into Ginny and putting the Snitch to his mother's breast when he needed to eat, alternately apologizing for not seeing the blasted article until it was too late to intercede with Harry and begging Ginny to tell her what had happened.

"Just tell me what he said," Nell had pleaded. "There's…We can fix this. Nothing's impossible in this world until you're dead, Ginevra." Nell took a deep breath before she spoke again. "I-I told Bart about the Universal Truth potion, about what Lionel did to you. I'm sorry. I had to. You can be angry and yell at me if you want to, you can even report me to the I.A.H., but he needed to know the whole story if we're going to help you. **Everyone** needs to know." She nearly growled in frustration at Ginny's lack of response. "At least tell me what's happening with that…that good for nothing sperm donor. The article said he plans to raise the baby in America with him. We can't let that happen! Bart will be back here any minute with Harry and we need a plan if we're-"

The Snitch had tucked his body even deeper into his mother's chest, letting out an ear-splitting cry.

"P-Please don't say his name around us," Ginny managed to say weakly over her son's distress. "I have to…not for a while…I just can't..." Turning away from her friend, she did her best to soothe her son.

She needn't have worried about seeing him. Harry didn't come back. Not that night nor the next nor the next after that. Bart could find no trace of him anywhere and a thorough yet discrete search conducted by Harry's fellow Aurors, including Ron, hadn't come up with anything either. Ginny imagined the villagers and her loved ones were teaming with questions and theories about the recent news in her life; if she could be bothered to leave the safety of the Nixon's guestroom or to open a letter, she might have concerned herself with explanations. To do that was to risk feeling something and Ginny had no desire to engage in such foolishness.

Finally, three days after Harry's disappearance, Bart came home with news.

She had just settled the baby into the small drawer Nell had transfigured into a cradle when she heard her hosts speaking downstairs in hushed, urgent voices.

_He's back. Bart found him and he's here._

Even though every step into the living room, every step closer to Harry, hurt from her feet up to where her heart had once been, she kept going. Stagnancy was proving ineffective and the need for motion—any kind of motion—was hard to ignore. Thankfully, she was clean. Nell had threatened to send a photograph of Ginny to Molly unless Ginny bathed that morning. Her formerly limp, stringy hair was now presentable. Ginny touched a lock of it in wonder. Did she actually care how she would look to Harry? That was unexpected. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not, but at least it was something new.

Shaking her head, she tiptoed down the steps, doing her best to ready herself for the sight of Harry hunched over on the tan couch or kneeling over the side of an armchair. She was so focused on preparing for that, she was wholly unprepared for the sight of Bart and Nell whispering animatedly, no sign of Harry whatsoever.

"I don't understand you, Bart Nixon!" Nell admonished him. "You told me when you found him that you would-"

"Well, things changed! You know what else? Women do not look attractive in denim skirts, regardless of length. Will never happen. Ever. Candy is awful for you, even though cardboard-covered sugar tastes better than any vegetable."

"Bart…"

Uh, let's see what else? It took me five miserable dates to museums and art galleries before Annabeth Pollack let me get to second base with her-"

"She better have been have fat."

"Size two, but she had a very hairy upper lip. I will never be able to parallel park a car. I will never have a six-pack of abs, and despite every letter I've ever written George Lucas, the Ewoks are still in subsequent releases of _Return of the Jedi_." He shrugged helplessly. "Babe, life doesn't care what we wish for. Sometimes you just have to let it take you somewhere while you hang on."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I know."

"I mean, it's just absurd on its premise."

"I hear you." Bart snorted in contempt. "You're telling me that George Lucas thought the audience would buy walking teddy bears being able to take down a few All-Terrain Scout Transports with just logs and vines? That is-"

Nell grabbed his chin and pointed his face towards hers. "That is **not** what I meant."

"Yeah, I get that. I'm actually kind of a smart guy. I just…" Bart sighed.

"And he knows everything? About the blackmail and everything she sacrificed to protect his reputation and what she's been like here these past few days? You didn't leave anything out?"

No, Harry is fully briefed on the entire situation. I know Ron and Hermione have been writing him nonstop, too but it hasn't made a difference. He hasn't changed his mind, babe. He isn't coming back."

It was Ginny's own fault. She had left the safety of the bedroom to venture back out into the world and this was what she was greeted with. True, she hadn't felt like she'd be able to stand being in a room with Harry a few minutes ago, but that was a few minutes ago; practically a whole other lifetime, one where perhaps Harry was just working up the nerve to see her or even finding some way to stop Lionel from claiming the Snitch. In this new lifetime, the reality was that Harry did not want to see her and that made her feel…feel…

Angry.

No, not angry.

Furious. Short of anyone with a Dark Mark on their arm, she couldn't remember ever wanting to throttle someone at that moment more than Harry Potter.

He had said horrid things to her; things that no man who claimed to be decent should ever say to a woman, and now, in the aftermath, he didn't even have the courtesy to look her in the eye again? The mistakes she had made in her life could fill a seven-hundred page book, and the ones involving Harry alone would probably be about two-thirds of it. Ginny would never deny that. However, if she had ever done to someone what Harry had done to her—used words to viciously wound them past the point of mere pain—she knew she would never be able to live with herself until she made it right. The very least she could do was give them an apology to their face.

It seemed Harry didn't think she was worth that. With every bit of history between them, for all the tears and blood they had shed for one another, she was undeserving of the words, "I'm sorry".

_That bastard. _

It wasn't at all pleasant but at least the news of Harry had been the motivation Ginny needed to force herself to push onward. That night, after she had crept back up the stairs as quietly as she had come down, she had sent an owl over to the proprietor of the Green Swallow Inn, Mrs. Nettles, and arranged for boarding. Her next owl was to Sapien Stellner, to ask if her original plot of land provided by the village was still available for her to build a small home on. There would be no more hurting people she loved dearly. Staying with Nell and Bart was putting them squarely in the middle of a conflict between two people they considered family. Ginny couldn't ask that of them anymore. Her last letter had been to Hermione. She needed the best legal advice she could get if she was going to keep her child.

The weeks since that night had been some of the most difficult Ginny could remember in a lifetime that was already too young for such troubles. Thankfully, none of her troubles were of a financial nature. When Barnabas Cuffe learned of the article in the _Daily Prophet_ that triggered this latest nightmare, his actions had been swift and effective. Ginny had been given an extension on the start date of the columnist position, with full pay and benefits, and just to sweeten the cauldron, Wilhelmina Rutherford had been given her walking papers. Ginny hoped she and dear Pressley would be happy together, commiserating at the bottom of a bottle. However, even the downfall of two miserable excuses for witches couldn't alleviate all her woes.

Her parents and her brothers had all received Floo calls to explain the situation with Lionel and why it had escalated to the point it had. There were few things in her life that caused her as much aching in her heart as watching her brothers' faces while she told them of the memories Lionel had used to control her. She was the youngest and the laws of nature dictated that she be protected by them, not the other way around. Ginny was nothing if not someone who fought against the traditional. All five of her brothers showed their Prewett heritage in their rage against Lionel; it was only the harsh reminder from Ginny of what could happen in the custody proceedings if any of them were accused of trying to kill Lionel that tempered their resolve to confront the man themselves.

Her parents' reaction was one of quiet horror, partly because of the struggles Ginny had faced but also because it seemed that they might lose another son due to their daughter's choices. Fred's death had aged them both years overnight; Ginny's tumultuous love life and the distress it was causing for so many people looked to be tacking on another decade or so.

But it wasn't her mother's tears or Bill's shame or even Harry's retreat that turned Ginny's stomach over and over on a constant daily loop. It was the papers that had arrived her first night back at the Green Swallow:

_**Petition for Custody of Unnamed Minor Child (A.K.A. Baby Boy Weasley)**_

_Dear Ms. Weasley,_

_This letter is to inform you that Lionel Dresden (Petitioner) is seeking full legal and physical custody of the minor male child born to you, Ginevra Weasley (Respondent) on December 19__th__, 2002 in London, England. Petitioner claims that Respondent is an unfit parent due to past and recent mental instabilities and is neglectful of said minor child's basic needs. Petitioner is also seeking to limit the Respondent's future contact with the minor child. Respondent has seven days to reply to the Petitioner's claims and/or to make additional claims against the Petitioner._

_A hearing on the matter is set for March 11__th__, 2003. All parties must be present to…_

Ginny had almost burned the scroll on the spot, but Hermione' voice rang loudly in her subconscious.

_Destroying a legal document? Are all Weasleys born without a basic understanding of common sense? I owe Ron an apology then. For years, I thought it was just relegated to him._

So the damned piece of paper sat alone by her bedside table. It was the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing she saw before she went to sleep; a constant reminder of where her focus should truly be: Her son and his well-being.

The baby let go of her breast on his own and Ginny settled him over her shoulder to burp. "I'm going to find a way to beat him," she promised the Snitch. "You won't ever lay eyes on him in person, not if I have any say in the matter. Auntie Hermione is helping us and she's a very, very smart witch. If anyone can figure out a way around that mean man's deep pockets, it's her. She'll make the court see that I'm the only one to take care of you."

There was no other outcome that Ginny would let herself visualize. She needed strength now more than ever and imaging even the possibility that some judge could or would take her child away from her had the potential to break her beyond repair.

A soft belch in her ear brought a genuine—albeit small—smile to her face. Gently, she set the baby down on the bed and leaned on her elbow to gaze down at him as he cast wide eyes around the candlelit room. She might pay for it with a few yawns tomorrow, but she couldn't handle the thought of not being able to watch her child in the quiet stillness of the night.

"We have a lot of good people fighting on our behalf and working to beat the bad…" Ginny sighed, laying her free hand on her son's warm stomach. "I shouldn't call him names in front of you, should I? You're here because of him. I can hate what he's doing to us, hate it to the tallest mountains in the world, but I can't allow myself hate him. Not anymore. I can't let my emotions keep taking me over. You're a part of your…your birth father and if I hate him, it'd be like hating a small piece of you. There would be nothing right about that." She trailed her fingers over the smooth yellow material of his sleeper. "Your Grannie made this for you. She'll be making a lot of clothes for you as you get bigger. Mummy gave it her best effort, but knitting will have to be left strictly in Grannie Weasley's hands." Ginny giggled softly. "You should have seen some of the things I tried to make for you when you were still inside me. This one time I was making you a jumper. Silly Mummy, though, forgot to put any sleeves on it. My face turned redder than my hair when Ha-"

She thought she had caught herself just in time, but the Snitch still looked to her with expectant eyes. When her mouth slowly closed shut, the baby turned his head away from her, breaking off a tiny piece of his mother's heart as Ginny saw the unmistakable pain in his bright brown eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry isn't here anymore," she whispered, laying her head down on the pillow. The baby started whimpering lightly at the name. Ginny nestled closer to him and laid her lips against his head as she kept talking. "I know that you must miss him very much and I'm so sorry we fought in front of you. We must have scared you with our loud noises and banging all about the house. But you don't care about any of that. All you want is for things to be the way they were before, with Mummy keeping you safe and warm while Harry was telling you all sorts of funny stories.

"None of it was your fault, though. You did absolutely nothing wrong, nothing to make Harry go away." Tear pricked at the back of her eyes, even as the baby's whimpers faded to quiet sniffles. "You are perfect in every way. Mummy…Mummy's the one who isn't perfect. She's the one who lied, despite being given so many chances to make things right. She…I was just scared. Scared of what would happen to people I loved. Scared of how people would look at me. I may have hated the way Harry said it, but he was right about one thing: I kept on lying. I let myself be afraid and everything just got out of hand until I thought I had too much to lose if I told the truth. Don't ever, ever let yourself get in that deep with a lie, sweetheart.

"I wish that Harry was here, if only for you. I still…it's still hard for me to think about him. I know that a part of what happened was he was just so angry over what he had learned, but that's the thing: When you get bigger, even when you know why someone behaved the way they did, it can still be hard to forgive them. I may not be able to see him without getting angry again. He should still see you, though." Ginny let herself remember a time when the thought of Harry made her smile. "He was so wonderful with you. He could always get you settled down, no matter if your tummy was upset or if the bathwater had been a little too warm or if you woke up from a bad dream. He seemed…He seemed like he cared about you very much." She sighed in frustration. "That's another thing that makes me a little barmy. I know why Harry's stayed away from me. He's still very angry. I just don't understand how he can stand being away from you. I could never imagine not wanting to see your face every second of the day. There's a lot of mistakes I've made and a host of other I'll make in the years to come, but if you never believe another word I say, then please at least believe me when I tell you that you matter to me more than breathing."

The Snitch stared up Ginny for a moment before his hand reached up and patted gently at her cheek. She took it and placed it at her lips.

"I love you so much, sweet boy."

* * *

><p>Ginny shook her head in annoyance, waving her wand again. The wall in front of her changed from beige to something that, according to the copy of <em>Delphina's Compendium of Color Spells<em> she was holding, was called burnt sienna. Whatever it was, it made her eyes water slightly and hers certainly did enough of that lately without any additional help. Ginny simply waved her wand, the walls of her new living room becoming bare once more, wondering what on Earth a color called xanadu would like.

A knock on the door interrupted her search. "Come in," she called, not bothering to see who it was.

There was silence for a moment and Ginny finally turned to see who she had let into her home. Her back stiffened when the weathered gray eyes of Sapien Stellner greeted her.

"Good day, Citizen Weasley."

"Hello," she replied quietly.

"I have come, on behalf of the village Council, to see that you are settling well into your home."

"Thank you for taking the time to do so. As you can see," Ginny indicated to the cardboard box in the corner of the empty room, "I have everything here all ready."

"Your son?"

"Bart and Nell have him. They should be by soon. I wanted to get everything set up first."

"Please, allow me." With barely the slightest flick of Sapien's hand, the box opened and a torrent of objects flew out. Ginny watched in silence as furniture, lamps, curtains, and assorted knickknacks assembled in the room in front of her, or streamed by her to travel off to the side kitchen or upstairs to the bedrooms. The porcelain tub setting itself down on the floor above Ginny's head ended the short frenzy and she nodded at Sapien, her house in perfect order all around her.

"Thank you," she said again, turning back to her walls.

"I see that you are angry with me Citizen Weasley."

"Well, given that you have empathic abilities, I'm not too impressed at that you got that right."

"You are upset over the decision of the Council to allow Mr. Dresden to take custody of your son, should he be granted it, as opposed to denying Mr. Dresden or any other court official presiding over the matter access to the infant while he is here in Hastom."

"Look at that. You're two for two. I'd think about taking your act on the road if I were you."

"We are not a sovereign nation. We are protected in part from the outside world due to treaties we have established with the existing government of Great Britain. If a citizen of Hastom were to commit a criminal offense against that government while in our borders, such as murder or kidnapping, we would not keep them here. We would turn them over to the lawful authorities." Sapien stepped further into the room, his long cloak swishing loudly in the stillness of Ginny's fury. "If a court deemed that Mr. Dresden is the legal guardian of your son, then we would have no choice-"

"There are always choices in life. What you mean is that you have no plans to avail yourself of those choices."

Sapien was quiet for a long moment.

"Yes, I suppose that is the way to put it. We choose not to. **I** choose not to. I know that you yourself are familiar with choices and their consequences. You are not unique, Citizen Weasley. You are a mother who loves her child tremendously and fears losing him to someone that you consider unfit. Your story has been told countless times by countless other women and is more than likely being lived by countless others at this moment. Why should your feelings and desires hold more sway than any other? Why do you deserve extra help more than any other?"

"Because," Ginny replied, trembling, "I am a citizen of Hastom and so is my son. We stand stronger together as a whole than as hundreds of one. I think I listened to those words come out of your mouth once upon a time. I see now what they really meant to you."

"They are the basis of my entire life. And you are right. You and your child are both citizens. With that title comes the responsibility of abiding by the laws of this land and one of those laws proclaims that we must turn over children involved in custody disputes to their legal guardian." He put his hand on her stiff shoulder. "I know how you must feel and-"

"Really?" Ginny whirled around. "You know? You know what it feels like to live every second of your life with a scorching ball of lead growing bigger and bigger in your stomach as you're waiting for some judge who doesn't even know you to look down from his bench and decide if you should keep your child or not?"

"I did not mean to-"

"Or how about watching all around you as the people you love scramble to try and help you pick up the mess you made of your life?" Ginny pressed on him. "Especially considering it was a mess you made trying your damnedest to make sure they would never know exactly how fucked up your life actually was. You understand what that's like?"

He backed away from her, wincing slightly. "Citizen Weasley, please-"

"But I am sure you know perfectly well what it's like to listen to the person you love call you a whore," Ginny said, stabbing her finger against Sapien's chest. "You know what it's like to see them look at you as if you were the most disgusting, loathsome piece of rubbish in the world. Which is what you feel like when they say that you are an unfit-"

"GINNY, STOP!"

She paused in shock at his use of her given name and watched as he staggered away from her, his face contorted in pain. Sapien took several moments to collect himself, clutching the back of the couch to keep steady.

_What…What's wrong? What did I do to him?_

"Should I call for someone?" Ginny asked with bated breath. "Do you need…?"

"No," the older wizard finally said. He blinked to focus. "I-I am fine. Forgive me, Citizen Weasley. I fear it has been many years since I have…encountered a pain as fierce as yours, if I ever have. I was ill-prepared for it."

Ginny struggled to understand what he was telling her.

"But you've been…Surely there have been people you've met that have been hurt before?"

"People hurt every day of their lives in some way: A crack on the head from standing to fast or a promotion given to someone else or even the loss of a spouse to the next life. I have grown quite accustomed to those pains. Your pain, though, it is the worst kind; the kind that takes years and years of training my powers to handle."

"What kind is that?"

"Being betrayed by the one you love." Carefully, Sapien lowered himself into one of Molly Weasley's old armchairs. Ginny sat across from him on the coffee table, still troubled by the lack of color in his face as much as his words. "When we love someone, when we give every bit of our heart and soul to another, we give them the greatest power in the world over us. We live as they live and die as they die. Their joys are ours and their pain is bearable because they do not carry the burden of it alone. It is…a wonderful thing to know such a love, but it comes with a price." His grave eyes met hers. "When the pain we feel is inflicted on us by them, it is magnified tenfold. How could they who we have devoted all our energies into making happy want to us see us suffer? There is no logic behind it, no sense at all. Even if the indiscretion was a momentary one that could be explained away, it makes no difference. All trust is destroyed because if they could hurt us in one instant, what is to stop them from ever doing it again?"

"That's what Harry did to me," Ginny concluded with a sigh, resisting the urge to get lost back in the memory of their awful fight.

"And you to him," Sapien said gently.

It would be a waste of breath to deny it. Ginny had been raised never to be wasteful.

"Well, you're the one who sees the future. Tell me, what does my son's look like? Or mine?"

He smiled a little sadly.

"There are too many paths laid out before you both to guess. They depend on you, but also on others. You are at the mercy of choices of some you do not trust at this time. In many of them, there is pain for you."

"Fine, but what about my child?" Ginny asked with trepidation.

"His future is in your hands alone. As you are beholden to others, he is beholden to you."

"Lionel won't take him," she vowed. "I won't let that happen."

"I know that you will fight to your dying day to protect your child."

It wasn't an answer Ginny wanted. She had known that already, had since the first time the baby was put in her arms. She wanted Sapien to reassure her of her son's future, to clear away its clouds so Ginny could retain whatever bits of her sanity she still had.

_That would require getting what you want. You know that's not what's supposed to happen in your life._

"What about Harry's future?" Ginny couldn't help to ask, desperate to know something for sure, good or bad. "Can you…Do you see him ever coming back?"

"His futures match yours in number. Too many, all relying on his choices to take shape."

He lightly squeezed her hand. "I believe your question is what place, if any, do you and your son have in Citizen Potter's future."

"I can't even say if I want one or not. Anytime I let myself think of him, all I see are his eyes when he…" She laughed humorlessly and held back a tiny shiver. "I've been called worse things by worse people. Frequently. Especially during my Quidditch days. To hear Harry say what he did, it was just the first time I truly let myself see how much he hated me for all I've done to him over the last few years. He'll never forgive me and I think I'm inclined to never want to forgive him for speaking that way about me in front of my son."

"Words are powerful weapons, as I am sure you will attest to. They can strike us with the force of a spiked cudgel. They are also quite potent shields. The word 'never' is almost impenetrable. It leaves no room for any hint of darkness to creep back in, but it also leaves no room for light to shine through. Think long and hard before you attach that word to something as ever-changing as the future, Citizen Weasley." With great care, Sapien rose to his feet and bowed his head to her. "I shall show myself out. Many blessings to you on this fine day."

* * *

><p>Ginny was still rooted to her spot at the coffee table, Sapien's words washing over her in waves, when Bart and Nell walked in with the baby sometime later. She busied herself with settling him down for a nap while the Nixons admired her new home and preparing for what Bart had dubbed a Brainstorming Bonanza with Ron and Hermione.<p>

"Okay," Bart began as he, Nell, and Ginny squeezed next to each at the tiny kitchen table around a strange black square Ginny had never before. Bart lifted the top and Ginny saw a screen of some kind, like a smaller version of what one might find on those telephision things she had seen in Hermione's parents' home. The bottom part of it had rows of keys with letters, numbers, and shapes all across. "Let's just connect with our friends and we'll get started."

"Explain to me again why we're using this and not the Floo network?"

"Because, dear wife, I do not want to spend the rest of my day coughing up ash and soot, thank you very much. Thus, we are using my laptop that I do not get to play with nearly enough." Bart's fingers flew across the keys until the screen came to life.

A large picture of a beautiful young woman, draped in a long, billowy dress (split at her legs and stretched tightly along her bust) with brown hair styled in two buns on the side of her head greeted them.

"What is that?" Nell asked immediately.

"Nothing! J-Just that's how the computer came. With that picture, exactly like that. Totally forgot it was on here." Bart quickly started typing again under his wife's stern gaze until the image disappeared. A series of whining bursts emerged from the device as Bart typed. Ginny inched away from it slowly.

"Is that thing safe to use?" Ginny asked, preparing herself to Apparate upstairs and get the baby out at the first sign of danger.

"Completely and one-hundred percent," Bart promised over the noise. "These bad boys are mainstays in the Muggle world. People use them every day there, sometimes for sixteen or seventeen hours at a time. They use them for work or research or to play games on or to stay in touch with one another. These things can even control some of the massive weaponry Muggles have stored over the world. Basically, computers are to them what wands are to us: a tool for good that can be deadly in the wrong hands."

"Well, that's comforting," Nell said.

"Not to worry, babe. We both know exactly how good my hands are, don't we?" Bart leaned over and nibbled playfully at her neck while his wife half-heartedly ducked away.

"Can we get on with this please?" Ginny asked as politely as she could, shifting her chair a little away from them. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, begrudging her friends their happiness, and besides that, they were here for much more important business.

Only slightly chagrined, Bart finished typing on his laptop and the screen came to life. Amazingly, Ginny found herself staring into the face of Hermione.

"Hello everyone," Hermione waved at them from what looked like her living room. "The kitchen looks very cozy, Ginny. Did you get the flatware set we sent you?"

Ginny nodded in a daze before she turned to Bart. "I can hear her perfectly. How did you do this? There has to be some sort of magic involved."

"Just a little bit. For powering the computer, because there's no outlets or electricity here, and in the clarity of the sound and picture. The laptop is fitted with something called a webcam." He tapped a small dot in the center of the top of the computer. "Hermione has one on her computer so we can talk back and forth. Figured it was easier than everyone crowding in front of a fireplace or sending birds back and forth."

"Huh, Muggles really like to go out of their way to make it easier on themselves," Nell said. She waved at Hermione through the screen. "I love that bookcase you have in there. It goes great with the wallpaper."

"Thank you." Hermione smirked. "The hickey on your neck goes very nicely with your earrings."

Taking his customary slap upside the head from his wife with stride, Bart said, "Alright, let's get to work people. Where's Ron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's in the kitchenette. He refuses to come in here."

"Why not?"

"Yes, Ronald, please tell them why not!" Hermione shouted to her left.

"That camp otter has a web camera in it!" Ron's voice cried out. "Do I need to remind any of you what lives in a web? There's no way you're getting me near that thing!"

His wife smiled tightly into the screen. "Just so you all know, I blame the three of you. None of you stopped me from marrying him in Hastom."

"Never mind that," Ginny said impatiently. "Hermione, did that colleague you mentioned get anything from my memories? Anything that will help us in court?"

"I'm sorry," Hermione shook her head. "It was just as I suspected when I looked at them myself last week. When you first started dating him, Lionel must have put some sort of spell on you that permanently corrupted your memories of him. You have full access to them in your mind and you're free to say whatever you wish about him, but whenever they're used for viewing in a Pensieve, everything in them becomes distorted. There isn't anything in them that we can use. Nothing about his behavior or his insistence on the abortion or the contract and blackmail."

"But isn't the fact that memories have been tampered with proof enough that Lionel did something illegal?" Nell asked.

"No, because his lawyers can argue that it was Ginny herself who did something to them, to hide something unsavory about herself. I couldn't find any traces of whatever spell or potion he used on your memories so there's no way to prove that it was Lionel. I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione addressed her. "I know you were counting on being able to back up your verbal testimony against him, but there's no legal way to do that with your memories."

"What about the memories he extracted from Ginny that he returned to her?" Bart chimed in. "Ron, what did your team find?"

"Nothing," he yelled back. "No fingerprints on the vial whatsoever, except for Gin's. He probably uses a charm of some sort on his hands so he never leaves any. Shifty blighter like him, that sounds like something he'd do. We can't show that he handled it in any way which means we can't argue that he was using any kind of blackmail against Gin."

Ginny nodded stoically. She had expected as much. Lionel was many horrible things, but he wasn't a fool.

"Fine, I can't prove what a bastard he is through my own experiences. What about others? Surely, considering all the witches he's ever been linked to and all the ones he kept hidden away, I'm not the first woman he's ever been with that's gotten pregnant by him. Doesn't matter how good a Keeper you have; fire enough balls at the hoops and one's bound to go through eventually."

"You're more than likely right," Hermione told her. "Our problem is finding someone with proof of that to present to the court. Nell, any luck finding a way into the records in Healer Smythe's office? From what Ginny described about Lionel's reaction, he's probably used the man's services before in regards to unplanned pregnancies."

"No." Nell paused and looked to her husband, who prompted her with a nod. "I'm, uh, sorry I didn't say anything until now but, um, I actually was let go from the office."

"What? When?"

Nell gave Ginny a sad smile. "About a month ago."

In other words, when Ginny refused Lionel's offer of marriage and the custody proceedings were set in motion.

"That rotten scoundrel," Hermione groused form her living room. "He probably paid Smythe or threatened him in some way to prevent you from getting access to his files. What grounds did Smythe give you for your dismissal? We might be able to sue him for unlawful termination."

"He only said that he was hiring someone with more experience and anyways, I never had a formal contract with his office. I was only used on an as-needed basis every month or so and I suppose I was no longer needed," she tried to joke.

"Nell, you needed that job," Ginny said, reaching over to take her friend's hand. "How are you going to afford to provide care for everyone and still keep a roof over your own head?"

_Not to mention you're trying to start a family now_, Ginny added to herself. _Definitely not a good time to be short on Sickles._

It was just another blow from Lionel to Ginny. He truly must be devoting the majority of his days to thinking up new ways to torture her. Hurting her family seemed to be his favorite sport nowadays.

Nell squeezed her hand and smiled. "I'll be fine. There are worse things in the world to not have than money."

"We'll make due," Bart added. "Nothing shameful about growing your own produce or buying things secondhand. Worse comes to absolute worst, I can make a small fortune selling off some of my memorabilia."

"Plus, it means I don't have to work with anyone associated with slime like Dresden. It's something I should have done months ago, Ginny. I just let myself worry too much about the money. Now I don't have that problem anymore. Don't fret over this at all."

"Actually," they heard Ron say, "they're looking for someone to assist the Auror matron in the department. Not full-time, just someone to help in emergencies and with the quarterly physical evaluations. So longs as you don't mind giving exams to blokes instead of birds, I'll give them your name."

"Oh Ron, that's fabulous! I'd love it!"

"Love?" Bart wrinkled his eyes. "That's the word you're going to use to describe ogling other men's toned and fit bodies? Really?"

Nell patted his cheek affectionately. "Do you know that loose floorboard in your office at the pub that you think I don't know about and the magazines you keep in it?" Bart stiffened straight as an arrow. "Would you like me to keep pretending I don't know about it?"

"Ron, you tell your buddies to get ready for my wife to put her hands all over them," Bart called into the computer. "Now back to business. The name of the game is looking for ladies that Dresden has screwed over, correct?"

"Correct, and it'll be easier said than done," Hermione said. "A lot of these witches are going to be anonymous encounters. Lionel would be the only one who knows their identities and he will not be forthcoming about them."

"The ones we have managed to find," Ron added loudly, "the higher-profile ones either didn't go through what you did, Gin, or refuse to talk about their relationship with him. We can't force them to. There are no records of him fathering a child or of any woman he was with having a child within a year of things ending."

"Same story from the guys I have looking into this in America," Bart said. "Which leads me to believe it's more a case of women going through with pregnancy termination."

"Something you'll never get to introduce in court without corroboration from the healer's records," Nell cut in.

"And those are only the voluntary ones."

"Voluntary?" Ginny stared at Bart in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He glanced at the small, floating yellow orb next to the table. The Snitch's tiny, even breathing could be heard through it easily, even as he slept upstairs.

"Lionel's a potion master," Bart answered slowly. "The best in the business, bar none. It's not out of the realm of possibility that if he was with a girl unwilling to consider an abortion that he could brew something up on his own to slip to her. They may never even have suspected him of anything. If he played the role of supporting boyfriend for a couple of weeks and then she tragically had a miscarriage, why would she think twice about it? Especially if he Obliviated her afterwards. Even if they weren't together, it wouldn't have been that difficult to have her followed and when she left a drink or a bowl of soup alone to have someone…" Bart trailed off and Ginny had a pretty good idea why he did, if her face was giving away what she was thinking.

_He could have been talking about me_, she thought, shaking at the thought. _That was probably Lionel's plan all along, to convince me not to talk at first and then make me…make me…_

The baby gave off a sneeze through the monitoring orb and Ginny tried to collect herself. Her son, it now seemed, had had to fight from the moment of his conception for his life and she'd do all she could to ensure it would be a happy one.

Far away from Lionel Dresden.

"W-What about Lionel's mother?" Ginny asked after a moment. "He said he only came forward because she found out about the Snitch. Would she listen to me if I could talk to her?"

"Not likely," Hermione said. "From all my research on her, Angelique Bedford-Dresden is devoted to her only child through and through. When her husband, Lionel's father, left her when Lionel was a young boy, she used her own family's considerable wealth to keep Dresden Draughts and Potions—what we now know as DDP—afloat until Lionel could assume control on his twenty-first birthday, eight years ago. She even financed all the freelance potion-making he did before then. Today, she still sits on DDP's board, but Lionel is in charge of the day-to-day operations."

"Not to mention the name 'Bedford' is a serious one in the American magical community," Bart said. "A buddy of mine traced her genealogy back about a thousand years or so, when the family was still based in Europe. They have the same kind of sway over there in the States that a family like the Malfoys or the Blacks once had here. That family's fortune has been growing as well. DDP is only a drop in the incredibly humungous bucket for the Bedfords."

Ginny stood and circled her kitchen slowly. It barely took her six steps to make a full lap. "So basically," she began, "I am asking a court to award me custody over a man beloved by the public, trusted by the governments of the world to craft potions for capturing criminals, and wealthy beyond any imagination using only my word that he is monster." She looked back at the kitchen table. "Do I have that all right?"

"This is not hopeless," Hermione tried to reassure her. "For one, we're using the British courts, not the American ones. You'll have just as much influence and recognition here as he does. There'll be dozen of witnesses to testify what an excellent mother you are and we'll have documented evidence from all the newspapers and magazines that if nothing else, Lionel clearly lives a lifestyle that's not conducive to raising an infant. This is winnable, I promise you."

"It'd be moot if you'd just let me and the boys have a go at him, Gin," Ron said sincerely.

"Not this again…"

"You don't think the five of us could convince him to drop this whole thing? Maybe even drop off the face of the Earth altogether?"

"I have no doubts that you could, Ronald. I do have doubts of you even being able to get your hands on him. He has protection around him all the time. He's probably upped it even more because he thinks you lot will try something that stupid. All it'll get you five is a row of cells in Azkaban. Look at your wife; is that really something you're willing to do?"

"No one is talking seriously about doing something that rash and irresponsible," Hermione said, enunciating every word for Ron. "We have a good case to make in court. We just have to trust that the judge will see that."

The room became overbearingly claustrophobic then. "Excuse me," Ginny said. She grabbed her coat and hurried out of the room. Luckily, she made it out and to the side of the house before she vomited all over the newly-finished yellow clapboards.

* * *

><p>Later in the evening, as Ginny was alone in the house changing the baby's diaper in his closet of a room, all of the facts and assumptions her little makeshift legal team had given her echoed in her ears and all of the possible outcomes laid forth ran through her mind:<p>

She could go to court and let a judge declare her unfit.

She could let her brothers try to maim Lionel into signing away his rights, signing their own life sentences in jail as they did.

She could marry Lionel and stay trapped in her own prison cell for who knows how many years, until the esteemed Angelique Bedford-Dresden died.

Or she could put her faith in the law to be unbiased; to see past all of Lionel's wealth and let Ginny come home to the safety of Hastom with her child.

_Weren't you supposed to stop believing in fairy tales as a child, Ginevra?_

That left only one course of action. One so drastic that she had dared not voice it to anyone, less she entangle them in the web of disaster that was surely to follow it.

_It's the safest way, though_, she thought, unfastening the Snitch's nappy distractedly. _The best way to make sure Lionel never gets him. There's too many variables any other way and too many risks to-_

A warm stream of liquid splashed against Ginny's neck and she recoiled in shock.

"Oh bloody hell!" Ginny cried, gagging at the unmistakable feel of urine coating her as the flow slowly petered out. Cleaning her shirt as best she could with a quick _Scourgify_, she leaned down over the changing table, glaring at her innocent-looking son. "Really, young man? Mummy doesn't have enough to deal with? Now she has to worry about whether or not you're going to wee all over her?"

The baby tried to lift his foot to his mouth, giving his mother a wide grin of delight. All of Ginny's annoyance evaporated in an instant at the beautiful sight. Giggling madly to herself, she lifted the baby above her head.

"Is that all it would've have taken for a smile from you? A little bit of a golden shower? Well, I wished you would have told me sooner," she cooed, kissing his soft belly. His laugh buoyed her sinking spirits and she lowered him back down to the table to finish latching on his nappy. "If that's what you need to feel happy, then please feel free to wee over Mummy whenever you want to. You won't hear another complaint from me."

The Snitch answered with a messy raspberry of glee and while Ginny gazed down in wonder at his innocence, her resolve hardened to stone. She knew what had to be done now and she'd do it without any second thoughts.

They would leave and hide where no one could find them. Ever.

Just because it was an easy decision to make didn't mean it was an uncomplicated one. It would mean most likely never seeing her parents or her brother again; never staying in one place for too long to avoid detection; living in disguise with a false name the rest of her life; possibly given up magic all together and living in the Muggle world so as not to become conspicuous.

Uncomplicated, it was definitely not. But worth it if it allowed her to keep him safe at her side.

It would take planning, though. And time. She would need to gather as much money together as she could and decide on her first destination. There were only a few weeks until the hearing. That would be her deadline.

_If it looks, by some miracle, like it'll go well, then nothing has to happen. If it looks like the judge will give Lionel custody, then we'll leave before he can._

Ginny leaned down and brushed her nose against the baby's.

"Let's put you down for bed, sweetheart. Mummy has to start getting some things ready for us."

Before she could go any further into her idea, there was a knock on the front door. Fastening his clothes back on, she settled him back in his crib with a quick kiss and hurried downstairs, activating the Monitoring Charm as she did. Still absorbed in her plans, she hardly gave a thought to who would be calling on her at this time of night.

Ginny wished she had. Then she might have been prepared to see Harry at her doorstep.

His eyes bored into hers. The brilliant emerald in them had almost always been her undoing, ever since she was ten and had seen them at her mother's table. They were impossible to look away from. If she had, she would have noticed the dark circles around them and the scruff around his thin cheekbones or the slight tremor in his hands. As it was, all she saw were his eyes and all she heard in her mind was one word over and over again:

Grffyinwhore.

She didn't dare imagine what words Harry was hearing as he looked at her.

By the time she realized how long they had been standing in the open door across from each other, their shared silence wrapping around them like a tight band, the biting February air had brought goose bumps all along the flesh of her bare arms.

"Hi," he finally whispered.

"_Hi"? That's all he can come up with is "Hi"? _

Although given the state of their affairs, perhaps it was good that at least something could be said between them.

"Hi," Ginny tried the word out for herself. It tasted…strange.

Harry, it seemed, hadn't thought much past his feeble greeting. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. The urge to slam the door in his face rose up, swift and fierce, especially with that horrid chant from her nightmare pounding against her skull. Ginny wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle hearing any more words come out of his mouth.

_What if this is your last chance, though? What if you don't see him before the hearing and you have to…?_

"Would you like to come inside, Harry?" She edged away from the door and gave him room to pass. He stayed stock still on the steps, not moving an inch.

_Well, you gave him a choice. Now it's all on him to turn and leave. Probably best if he does, you have a lot of things to arrange before-_

Quickly, without looking at her face, Harry brushed beside her into the house, shoving his hands deep into his pockets when he was over the threshold.

"Thank you," he murmured to her carpet.

"You're welcome," she replied to the door as she closed it.

She turned back to him and saw him looking around her new home. The walls were still bare. Ginny supposed she'd just leave them like that now. No point in trying to pick out a color she actually liked.

"Why didn't you build by the lake?" Harry asked suddenly. "On your land?"

"Because it's your land." Ginny leaned back against the door and folded her arms chest.

"I sold it to you."

"You sold it to a friend. I didn't think that's what I was any more." Her honesty was bold, even by her standards, but what was the point of not being truthful anymore? It wasn't like she'd have to worry what he thought of her soon enough.

The feeling of such freedom should have been liberating. So why did it feel plain bloody awful?

Harry finally worked up his own courage to look at her and she started a bit when she noticed that behind the green of his eyes—his perfect to perfection eyes—there was…nothing.

No light. No anger. No warmth. No ice.

Just nothing at all.

"I'm sorry…for the things I said the last time we…" Harry struggled to apologize. "They were untrue and, um, I know they were hurtful for you to hear and-"

"You said I was a whore," she reminded him, her tone flat and lifeless. "That I was a lying slut and an unfit mother who nearly murdered her child."

"I did." Harry blinked and swallowed. Something looked to be trying to break free across his features but he kept a tight hold on it. "I shouldn't have, especially in front of the b-baby like that. It was the last thing you should have heard after what you had been through that day already."

"So why did you say it?"

"I don't…I know that you were…What you did after we broke up, none of that was any of my-"

"Harry, I don't give a damn about that part! I mean…" She took a breath and tried to articulate her thoughts, the thoughts she was only now just beginning to understand herself. "There's unfortunately some truth to that part about my…" Ginny grimaced and fidgeted, keeping her eyes as from his as she could. "I was just... A part of me just hurt so badly and I needed a way to escape all the guilt I had about how I treated you after I ended things. Some people drink or take draughts or fly their brooms into volcanos and icy water for the thrill of it for an escape. I…numbed myself with meaningless sex."

"Ginny…" Harry murmured painfully.

"So yes, I was all those things you said and that's how I stumbled into Lionel's path a-and that's why I let him control the way he did. You weren't wrong about any of that, Harry." She forced her eyes back to his and asked the question that had plagued her for weeks. "But how could you think I was a horrible mother? How could you think that Lionel would be better for him than me?"

"I don't."

"You said-"

"I read the interview Dresden gave in the paper, after I put the Snitch down for his nap," Harry broke in, taking a step closer to her. Ginny glued her back to the door as he kept speaking. "For a long time, I just stared down at the words. I didn't even see them after I read it. Just his face that god-awful picture, smirking without a care or a conscience. Then it became your face I saw, your face all those times I asked you about the baby's…his biological father and how you used the fact that we were growing closer to either not answer the question or to lie outright to my face. That lead to remembering all those months, years really, I spent trying to figure out what I had done wrong the first time, why you had really left me. The whole time you were…well, escaping as you put it," a painful snort left his lips and the grip he had on his emotions slipped a little, "for l-l-lying to me, I spent it seeing how happy you were without me. All of that was in my head so that by the time you walked in the door, I just…Ginny, I don't think I've ever been that angry in my entire life. At anyone."

She almost wanted to ask if that included Voldemort, but she was terrified of the answer.

"I knew that the pregnancy wasn't planned, but I had no idea that you had considered…ending it like you almost did. Y-You have every right to that choice, don't get me wrong. When you told me, though, all I saw was the Snitch, sucking on that bottle I had just given him and blinking up at me with…with that he look he gets when he's eating. You know that one?" Harry smiled a little. "Like Ron would get at school when the Halloween tables were filled. So happy but kind of disappointed at the same time because even though he's eating, he knows it'll end soon? You know that look, right?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, thinking of her son's happy face and how Harry used to stare at him at night when he nursed. "Of course I do."

"When you, um, told me about almost…almost…" Harry stepped back and collected himself, "my mind just put the baby in my head. All I was thinking was he almost didn't exist; that there was an instant—a small instant in time—when he almost didn't get to be born to make faces and spit up on the back of the couch and…and fall so dead asleep on someone's shoulder that you couldn't even shrug or he'd wake up screaming like a banshee. It wasn't rational and it certainly wasn't fair to you or what you had gone through." The earnestness on his face took her breath away. "You're an amazing mother, Ginny. Everything you do with him and for him shows that and I'm so, so sorry that what I said that day made you doubt that for even a second."

"Thank you," she whispered. "And…And I'm sorry, too. For all the lies that I told you and for yelling at you at that…that way. We were both awful to each other."

"Yes, we were."

_So let's start again_, her subconscious screamed with the joy of a carefree girl, stunning her. _Let's start again! Work out a way to beat Lionel and have a life together, all three of us! A brand new Golden Trio!_

She was battling so hard to rein in her intemperate thoughts that she almost missed his next words.

"Hermione says that the case—your custody, that is—it's going well? You can beat him in court?"

"Oh…uh, she's, um, Hermione's working very hard on it," Ginny told him. "The hearing's set for…for March 11th." Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Will you be there? In the courtroom? You could testify, even." Hope bubbled inside her, surprising her because she had almost forgotten what it felt like. "Harry Potter would certainly hold some sway with-"

"I can't." The deflation in her stomach nearly took her off her feet. "Not that…Not that I don't want to," he added hastily. "I do want to. Very much, and of course I'd tell the court what a good mother you are and how well the baby's doing with you-"

"Then why can't you?"

The mask of detachment that had fallen from his face slid back on effortlessly. "Do you remember a few months ago, I told you about an international task force of Aurors? One that would go after war criminals and terrorists?"

A vague conversation from the day she had first watched Teddy alone, when the little monkey had nearly torn the house in half, came back to her and she nodded slowly.

"Well, after a lot of thought, I decided to join it after all. I'll be in training for it until I leave the first week of April." His words took on a tone of forced cordiality. "Secluded training, away from the public so I-I can't be there for the hearing. I'm sorry for that, but I already sent Hermione a letter saying that I'll give a deposition on your behalf and maybe that will-"

"You'll be gone eight years," Ginny remember out loud. Her heart drummed faster and faster in her chest. "Isn't that what you said? Eight years of nonstop service to build strong cases and to try suspects?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, nodding. "That's right."

"Why would you do that?" She left the safety of the door to walk closer to him. "Why would you just up and leave all the people…all the people who love you like that?"

"It wasn't an easy decision. I've given it a lot of thought and-"

"You've talked to Teddy about this? Because I think he'd have a problem not seeing you for eight whole years. Same with Ron and Hermione and Nell and Bart and…and…"

_ME! Me, Harry! Did you think about me? About not seeing me…_

Ginny sank down onto the couch at the realization. Of course he had thought about not seeing her for eight whole years. That was probably the task force's biggest selling point. No more having to look at the lying, cruel Grffyinwhore for quite a long time.

But to give up seeing everyone he loved because of her? That wasn't right! It wasn't right for him or anyone else! Especially considering that she was going to…

_You can't tell him_, she thought instantly._ You can't say a word. He'd be required by law to report you if you told him and then you wouldn't be able to stop Lionel from taking the baby. _

_DO NOT SAY A WORD, GINEVRA!_

"There are vile, evil wizards in this world. Ones who dominate and kill the weak for a few years of power or wealth or any other nonsense," she heard Harry explain over her sinking heart. "I can't just stand by distracted anymore while I have the ability to do real good. What would our world have been like if people in the Order had done that when Voldemort was alive? People like Dumbledore and Snape and your parents? How many others are out there, waiting for someone strong to come and save them?"

Ginny had the crazy idea to smack him upside the head, like Nell did to Bart when he said or did something completely out of bounds. Didn't Harry understand that he had given up his life once to save the world from evil? He was under no obligation to do it again, certainly not so he could avoid her. His sense of martyrdom was endearing only to a point; then it became a terrible, annoying burden for more than just Harry to bear.

"So…So you've signed on the dotted line and everything? You absolutely have to do this?"

"It won't be binding until the day I leave for my first assignment. Then there's no way to get out of it."

"What did Hermione and Ron say when you told them?"

"They…I just told them a little while ago. They just need time to adjust, that's all. Everyone will eventually. They'll see how important this is to me."

"But are you positive this is what you want for the next eight years?" Ginny stood and asked him. "If you do this, think of all the things you'll miss: Teddy, the work you do here, your friends, your friends' children. Nell's trying to get pregnant as we speak and surely Hermione and Ron won't be far behind. Don't miss all that, Harry." It was already bad enough that Ginny was going to. "You…You could even try and find Meredith," she added, desperate to find some reason for him to stay. "I'm sure that she'd-"

Harry blanched and ran a hand down his face. "I'm not getting back together with Meredith. Not ever. I just…Marriage and children aren't for me, Gin," he said in a rush.

Ginny wanted to shake his shoulders until his head fell off. "Please don't say that! You w-were wonderful with me and the baby when we came from the hospital. Even without any sleep and with me and him crying for all hours you were happy. I saw that. I saw how you were with him and-"

"I'm not his father."

_Why, oh why did you let him inside? You were not ready for this conversation. You knew that and you still let him in to say all these things to you. What a fool you are, Ginevra._

He continued slowly in a hushed voice in the face of her silence. "What we were doing all those weeks, hell for those months when we lived together…It wasn't right. It wasn't real." Harry's eyes locked onto a freckle on the side of her cheek but Ginny noticed only the words coming out of his mouth. "It was us playing house because there was so much that felt unfinished about how things ended for us, on both our parts. We let it…feel more real than it was because where we were in our lives wasn't a happy place, for either of us, and we just wanted to forget about all that for a little while. All the things we thought we were feeling for each other was an illusion and we just got caught up in it.

"Now, though, we have to let it go and move on with our lives. I have to put my energy into keeping the world safe from Dark magic and you…" He squeezed her cold hands tightly, "you have to focus on being the best mother in the world to your boy; on being free and happy so he'll grow up to be happy, too." Harry took a step back, but didn't let go of her hands, his jaw clenching. "I can…I know Ron said you didn't want anyone going to confront Lionel, that you wanted everything to be done legally, but…I know that I can force that son of a bitch to sign away his rights if you-"

"It's not your job," Ginny said dully, wishing she had the will to remove her hands from Harry's and fighting with everything in her to keep her tears at bay. "Like you said, it's all an illusion and I won't have you risk your job or your freedom for an illusion." She sniffed as softly as she could. "Hermione will do her job well and my son will be fine."

"O-Okay." Slowly, Harry let her hands fall out of his and she folded them underneath her arms to keep from grabbing back at him. "I'll…I'll just go."

He was already at the door when a thought occurred to her.

"Don't you want to say goodbye to the Snitch?" Ginny had to ask. For all the pain he had caused her, a part of her thought he was at least owed that much.

"No." His small words were so quiet she barely heard them. "No, I don't want to." The door opened and a rush of cold air hit her back. "Bye."

"Bye."

As soon as the door shut, Ginny unsteadily began walking back upstairs to her son. She needed to see his sweet face right then, desperately.

It was what she had wanted for all these weeks, for things to be settled and ended between her and Harry for good so she could put all her concentration back where it belonged, on the baby.

Yet, now that it was over and done with, why did she curse herself for wishing it in the first place?


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Okay, this one is going take you guys awhile to get through so I'll be brief. Betas, could never have gotten this done without you guys. Readers, don't break an ankle when you start jumping up and down. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. **

Ginny pounded on the door of Ron and Hermione's flat as loud as she dared, given the late hour and the baby asleep in her arms. She hated bringing him out at this time of night (or morning, actually) but it was necessary. She had already waited too long as she tried to recover from her shock and now hours had gone by; hours that should be spent formulating a plan to keep Harry in England with his friends where he belonged.

Ginny was smart enough to know that if one needed a plan, one went to Hermione Granger-Weasley.

The witch Ginny needed answered the door, her brown hair tangled wildly and either yawning or silently asking Ginny to give her a tonsil exam. She blinked her eyes awake slowly at the sight of her sister-in-law and nephew.

"Ginny what…what are you doing here? It's…Bullocks, I can't even read the time, it's that late. What's wrong? What happened?"

Ginny walked straight past Hermione into the room, keeping the baby nestled close to her in the sling. "I need your help."

"With what?" Hermione waved the lights on and tucked her robe closed. "Has Lionel's attorney contacted you or-"

"No, not with that." She struggled to keep her pacing as gentle as possible. "With Harry."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "He talked to you then?"

"Yes, a few hours ago. I should have come here straight away. I was just in a daze afterward for a little while. I could barely move. Then the baby woke up and started fussing and so I nursed him b-but he was still upset and then he threw up his milk and it got in his hair so I got him undressed for a bath because he always cries when I try to use cleaning spells on him and-"

"Ginny, slow down."

"-I was looking forever for his little tubby because it went into the wrong room when I unpacked and when I finally found it, he had made a mess in his nappy, all runny and disgusting, and he started screaming so hard I was afraid he'd pass out," Ginny leaned down to kiss his head, her tone becoming more frantic with every word, "before I finally found the blasted tubby only I didn't have any baby shampoo in the house-"

"Ginny, you have to-"

"-so I just used water to rinse him off which meant his hair still smelled like vomit and I didn't want him to have to smell that all night while he slept so I went through my potion books trying to find something I could brew up quick that eliminates hair odors and in one of them I stumbled across…some handwriting." Ginny finally stopped for a shaky breath. "It was Harry's. A-A note for me from months ago about…I don't even know what potion it was for, but all it did was remind me that Harry won't make notes in books for us or tell us a joke or argue with us about how to fold a shirt for a very long time unless we do something. We have to do something, Hermione. You're his oldest friends. He'll listen to you."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but the pounding footsteps coming down the small hallway stopped her.

Ron appeared before them, his lit wand in front of him and his face boiling over.

"It. Is. Three. In. The. Bloody. Effing. Morning!"

"Yes, we're aware of that Ronald," Hermione growled back at him, "because even though we're just feeble-minded females, we can tell time!"

"Who's we?"

"Your sister and I."

Ron finally took notice of Ginny. His face lost its maroon color, but the frown stayed where it was. "Oh…Hey."

"I-I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to bother you both so late, but I had to-"

"Harry told her his news," Hermione cut her off. "She came here because she wants our help talking him out of joining the task force."

Ron eyed Ginny up and down for the longest moment before he turned back to Hermione. "You talk to her."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Take the baby in the other room."

Ginny tried to catch her brother's eye as she maneuvered the sling with the baby over his shoulder, but he refused to look at her.

"Ron, I-"

"Just talk to Hermione," he mumbled, turning away from her with her son and walking back towards the bedroom.

"I know it's my fault Harry's thinking of leaving for so long," Ginny told him. Ron stopped where he was, but kept his back to her. "I know that he's doing all this to try to avoid looking at me and I know…You told me the night of Nell's birthday that you were afraid something like this would happen and it did so you're perfectly justified to be angry with me. Just please know that I'm going to try and make it right again."

Ron turned to her with a look bordering on pity.

"Well, that's the key word, isn't it? Again. Ginny, you're my sister and I'll always love you and fight for you if need be, but Harry's my best friend and…I just don't know how many more times you can break him before he can't put himself back together." He nodded to his wife. "Make her understand."

"I'll do my best."

Ron glanced down at the Snitch and back at his trembling sister. "I'd try and make you see this for yourself—something I didn't even understand until tonight—but I think if I did, there's a better to none chance I'd say something we'd both regret for a very long time and there's already been enough of that lately in our family." He gave her his best effort at a smile before he took her son out of the living room.

Hermione rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "Would you like some tea?"

"No," Ginny said tiredly. She was so tired and weary, feeling much older than her years.

"Well, I need a few cups of it." Hermione walked over to the kitchen and waved her wand gracefully until a kettle was heating and two teacups sat on the small island. "Sit down and join me, at least. Ron and I didn't get to bed until after midnight. We had a lot of things to discuss."

Ginny eased herself onto a kitchen stool. "About Harry?"

"And you," Hermione said, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk. "That's all anyone with the name Weasley seems to talk about nowadays, the two of you. Actually, a fair few without the name as well."

"We didn't mean to be such a burden for everyone."

"That's not what I mean, Ginny. We love you both so much and it's just absolutely horrible to see you suffering so much. You and Harry."

"I know what I did to him was wrong," Ginny said for what felt like the ten-thousandth time. "But he shouldn't have to throw his life away because of me and what I did."

"Why shouldn't he? Isn't that what you did for him years ago?" The kettle whistled, piercing the air until Hermione Levitated it into her hands, pouring a cup for herself and Ginny.

Ginny lowered her head into her hands.

"Well, he shouldn't. Not for something that wasn't real to him," she murmured under her breath. His words were etched in her mind with a batch of George's Incessantly Inerasable Ink.

"What was that?"

"Why," Ginny began, lifting her head, "are you not with Harry right now, beating him upside the head with a thick book until he listens to reason?"

"Because," Hermione said around the brim of her cup, "I think maybe he should go."

"What?" Ginny whispered, stunned and shaken. "H-How could you…He shouldn't be alone, Hermione! He spent more than ten years of his life all alone, without anyone to love him! On what planet do you think it's healthy for him to be away from his family and his friends for EIGHT YEARS?"

"The one we live on where all of his family and friends remind him of you." Hermione tried to take her hand, but Ginny drew away from her touch as if bitten by a snake. "I don't doubt that there's been love between you. I saw it with my own eyes in my sixth year. Harry just…something in his eyes changed when he was with you; something damaged deep inside him by Voldemort started to heal for the first time in his life. When he had to leave you to search for Horcruxes, he was a wreck. He missed you so much he'd look at your name on the map for hours when he thought I was too depressed about Ron to notice. Then when we came back and you had your…your difficulties, I saw just as you did what it cost him to try and shoulder your pain along with his own. You may have gone about it rather indelicately, but I think you may have had the right idea. Like, Ron and I both finally understood tonight, Harry has now."

"Which is?"

"You and Harry have struggled for years to recapture a few weeks spent at Hogwarts when you were teenagers. Every other period of your relationship is marked by someone being hurt or concealing the truth about themselves. He's left you and you've left him for various reasons—all with very best of intentions—but you've both left just the same." She reached for Ginny's hand again and Ginny didn't pull away this time. "I think maybe it's time to let go of memories of the lake and the Common Room and just…move on."

"I love him," Ginny said softly. "You were right before; I've loved him since I was a little girl. I don't think it's possible to ever stop."

"That may be." Hermione smiled tightly as a tear fell down her cheek. "The thing of it is, though, that you and Harry don't seem to know how to love each other without hurting each other and that's…that isn't right. For either of you."

Ginny sniffed and blinked back her own tears. On its face, Hermione's theory was sound. How could it not be, coming from her? The beginning of her and Harry's relationship had been the most peaceful period in their history, maybe in her entire life. Every other time when they were together, even just in each other's orbit, seemed to be filled with crisis and lies and other people with blonde hair.

However, none of Ron and Hermione's analysis solved the problem she had come here to solve.

"It doesn't mean he should leave," Ginny reiterated. "Just because he and I…he shouldn't have to run to the far corners of the Earth."

"That was my initial thinking, too, when he told me. It was almost exactly what he had done the first time and it hadn't worked, not really. He still tortured himself for years over what had gone wrong between you two. I didn't realize until the third Howler I sent him why it hadn't worked."

"And that was?"

"Even though he didn't see you every day, he saw Ron every day. He saw Arthur and Percy at the Ministry and got letters from Molly and looked at your pictures when he started going to the Burrow again. George always sent him free products. Bill helped him whenever he was at Gringotts. He'd open a paper or turn on the wireless and there'd be a story about the Harpies. Even Teddy liked to sleep with that stuffed lion you gave him when he was baby." Hermione gave a defeated shrug. "What hope could he possibly have of moving on from you when you were still everywhere in his life? As much as Ron and I will miss him and worry about our best friend every single day when he leaves, we both know it may be the only thing he can do to get over you. We have to find it in us to support him in his choice. As should you."

"So…So I'm supposed to just let him leave?" Ginny asked, giggling slightly hysterically. "I'm supposed to send him a few pairs of warm socks for his travels and be done with him? Let him disappear without a trace so as not to see me when I'm-"

She scrunched her eyes shut and wrestled the next words back down. She couldn't say a word to Hermione about her plan to leave. Like Harry, she would have a legal responsibility to report Ginny's plans to take her baby and vanish.

_Damn it, Harry! Why are you doing this? I had it all nice and sorted in my head. Why are you making this all so difficult?_

"What you're supposed to do," Hermione said gently, "is focus on your son and the hearing. Put all your energy into that and live with your choices while Harry lives with his. Because even if it feels as awful as I imagine it does for both of you, it isn't healthy for you to have a life together right now. Maybe…someday, in the future, when you're both in better places. But not now." She let go of Ginny and stared down into her forgotten teacup.

_No, Hermione. You have no idea how horrible it feels to love someone that you can't be with. What you and Ron went through in school doesn't compare to what Harry and I…_

Ginny's eyes blurred and she swallowed, unable to finish the thought.

Hermione only had it half right. It only felt awful for one of them.

After all, how could one be hurt by an illusion?

* * *

><p>March 11th greeted Ginny with a bright sun in the sky to warm the chill of winter that still lingered in the air, but she hardly paid it any mind. She had barely noticed it earlier in the morning as she bundled up the Snitch and walked him around Hastom in his pram, wanting him to see glimpses of the small shops and homes and hear the friendly voices of their fellow citizens. The odds were great that they would never set foot in Hastom again and she wanted however much of the magical home that had taken her in to stay in her heart wherever else she was going.<p>

If she was going anywhere. Best to keep hope alive until the last possible second so as not to arouse suspicion.

By midmorning, Ginny was trying not to shift too much, sitting on the wooden bench in the long, narrow hallway of the tenth level of the Ministry of Magic. Unlike the criminal courtroom reception area on the opposite wing, there were warmer, perhaps even homier touches in this section. The walls were a pleasant, dull beige and the windows were enchanted so sunlight streamed in on the abundance of family and friends gathered with her in support. Hopefully, the macabre unease that plagued the criminal courtrooms wouldn't be found in their civil counterparts.

She would know in a few moments and when she did, she would not give the judge waiting to decide the rest of her life one reason to doubt her fitness as a parent, not even from a wrinkle on the modest navy robes her mother had given her to change into upon meeting them at the Ministry an hour ago.

Ginny would not lose hope because there was always hope, tiny pockets of it to be called upon when needed. Her father, sitting right next her, would say the words himself if she asked him. Arthur Weasley had always been that way. It was how he had raised all of his children.

His wife, on the other hand, had instilled other traits within her children. One of them was for preparation to always be a priority, in all walks of life. Ginny was choosing to spend these last few moments before her custody hearing listening to her mother's wisdom.

_There'll be a recess before the final decision. It's procedure. If it looks to go Lionel's way, tell everyone your breasts are feeling heavy and take the baby into a bathroom stall to nurse with the nappy bag. It will be a few moments before anyone comes to look and the Polyjuice should have taken effect by then. Sneak out of the bathroom as quietly as you can, get up to the Floos, and go straight to Luna's boyfriend, Newt. He's traveled the world and he can name the most remote parts of it at the drop of a hat. Once you explain everything to him, he'll know the perfect place for you to start your journey and within the hour, you and the baby will both be on your way to somewhere where no one will find you._

It had become Ginny's mantra over the last week. Whenever the silence in her new home crushed in on her or whenever another article appeared in a tabloid with Lionel's picture and an accompanying headline about his eagerness to spend time with infant son, Ginny had clung to her mantra with two hands and an iron grip. Hermione could put all of her faith and trust in the fairness of the legal system. The only person Ginny truly trusted to guard her son's life until their last breath was herself.

Well, there was one another person, or there had been she should say. He had just chosen to make himself unavailable for the time being.

_Do NOT think of Harry right now! Those thoughts will only serve as a distraction and that cannot be afforded today!_

She had been surprisingly successful, for the most part, on taking Harry and Hermione's advice to keep all her attention on her son. With all the work that went into preparing for the hearing (and her potential escape) as well as caring for the boy on a daily basis, it hadn't been entirely difficult to push Harry out of her mind.

There were moments though, in the still of night feeding the Snitch or when he rolled over from his tummy to his back for the first time, that Ginny would look up, expecting to see Harry watching over them both, only for the bite of heartache to give her much-abused organ a painful squeeze. And she had finally been able to convince herself that the dreams she had of him almost nightly, where he reached out to her as she futilely chased him down a dark, never-ending tunnel didn't count as thoughts. She was unconscious, after all. How was she to control seeing the image of his pleading eyes or his hand held out to her or the words coming from his lips that she could never hear or-?

"Are you alright, luv?" her mother asked her from the opposite wall. Ginny, her parents, and the baby were gathered a little further away from the rest of the group, clustered near the entrance of the atrium that connected the civil and criminal wings. The Snitch was sleeping against his grandmother's shoulder, happily impervious to the tension surrounding him.

Ginny fought the urge to snatch her child back, to hold him against her heart and quell its frantic pounding. The small light of a smile in her mother's eyes stopped her. This could be the last time Molly Weasley would ever hold her youngest grandchild and Ginny couldn't begrudge her that.

Not after what she might be forced to do in a few hours.

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny said as casually as she could. "Just nervous about today."

"There's no need to be. That judge will see how loved this young man is by his Mummy and how wonderfully cared for he is. The man might even give you his own children when the whole thing is done."

Ginny tried to smile, keeping her eyes on the baby. She opened her mouth to respond when a sudden uneasy hush enveloped the larger group of her supporters.

She slowly stood to join them.

"Arthur," Ginny heard her mother say quietly over her head, "hand me a cloth from the nappy bag. Your grandson enjoys drooling far more than is polite for public."

She ignored her parents in favor of seeing what had captured the others' attention. "What is it?" she asked. Squeezing her way past Percy and Bill, she immediately caught sight of Lionel, draped in silver robes, chatting happily to a member of his vast, well-dressed entourage, every single one of his pearly teeth showing, his arm guiding an older woman a head shorter than him, the dark grey silk robe she wore billowing gracefully at her feet. Her face was not without small traces of age, but awash in the regal glow of someone born with affluence, not a gray hair to be found among the honeyed locks she had given to her son.

Some part of her, born of desperation perhaps, filled Ginny with an urge to step away from her group, ignoring the whispers and the hand grappling for her elbow. The hopeful voice her father had filled her with since girlhood carried her across the marble floor until she was a few feet away from the Dresdens and their legal team.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Dresden?" Ginny asked. The group stopped and stared at her. Lionel's smile remained on his face, but Ginny saw his eyes narrow slightly, dangerously. She ignored him and kept her attention on her son's grandmother, the woman Ginny needed to help her. "I know we haven't met yet, but I'm-"

"I know perfectly well who you are." The woman's blue eyes, a shade softer than her son's, looked Ginny up and down. "And I go by Bedford-Dresden, if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me. I just…wanted a moment of your time before the hearing started to speak with you privately, if I may."

"There's something you need to say to me that you cannot say in front of your child's father? That doesn't seem like anything I want to listen to."

"This hearing shouldn't be happening," Ginny said, trying with her eyes to make the older woman understand. "Your son-"

"Gave you every chance in the world to be a proper mother to your son by being a proper wife to him. This hearing is your doing and no one else's, Ms. Weasley."

"Lionel is a liar, ma'am. You can't believe anything he's told you." Mrs. Bedford-Dresden's mouth opened, but Ginny continued. "He knew I was pregnant before you told him about seeing me in the paper and he tried to make me terminate the baby. That's the truth. He doesn't care one thing for my child. This hearing is a mistake."

Lionel took a step towards them, but his mother held up a hand to stop him, never even turning her head and Lionel fell back in line without a sound.

"And your proof of these horrifying allegations is where exactly?"

Ginny shook her head in frustration.

"You son is deceiving you and for that you have my sympathies. You'll see his true colors eventually, but **my** son can't wait that long. Please believe me. I swear on all my honor that what I'm telling you is the truth." Ginny stared at her beseechingly. "Please."

Lionel's mother nodded carefully, studying one of the pair of enormous ruby rings she wore on each middle finger. "This honor that you're swearing on? Is it the same one that you gave away freely to all those other wizards before my son and probably all the other ones after you were through with him?" She chuckled a little to herself. "I did my homework on you and darling, your honor is worth about as much as a pauper's life savings. So unless you wish to save us all the trouble of this proceeding and are willing to give my son his child right here and now while we work out a visitation schedule for yourself," she shrugged and smiled politely, "well there's just nothing else we have to say to each other. Good day to you." The woman's smile was pleasant enough but the coldness in her eyes could cut through ten layers of steel. She walked back to Lionel and he took her arm, smirking at Ginny, the confidence of assured victory oozing out of his every pore.

"Ginny, come on." Hermione's hand was at her elbow and Ginny let her sister-in-law pull her back to their own group. "Why did you do that?"

"I had to try to make her see what Lionel was using her to get away with. As one mother to another. You said your research showed her to be charitable, compassionate even for those in need of help."

"Yes, but we're talking about her only child. You've known your child all of a few months. Twenty years from now, if some woman comes up to you and says that your son is a liar and a dangerous man, would you believe her on just her word?"

"No," Ginny admitted.

"Well, then you're no different than Angelique Bedford-Dresden, now are you?"

Her family and friends gathered around her again, asking questions and making comments. Ginny only cared for one thing at the moment and it was not speaking with others.

"Where's the Snitch?" she asked them.

"He's fine. Your mother's in the washroom, changing him," Arthur told her. He took her hand and led her back to their bench, waving the others off. "Let's sit and take a moment before they call us in, shall we?"

Reluctantly, Ginny sat down beside her father, a mass of adrenaline and nervous energy barely able to contain itself in her skin and bones and completely out of control. She liked control, since her tumultuous beginning at Hogwarts. To be without it was unsettling but no wholly unsurprising. After all, her future was not her own anymore and hadn't been for some time. It was tied intrinsically to that of her child and now both their fates rested in the hands of a wizard who they had never met before.

She may not be able to control what would go on in the courtroom but she damn well would have a say in what happened after.

_There'll be a recess before the final decision. It's procedure. If it looks to go Lionel's way, tell everyone your breasts are feeling heavy and take the baby into a bathroom stall to nurse with the nappy bag…_

Sucking in a quiet breath, Ginny looked down to her feet at the bulging bag. Had her mother seen how much was in the charmed bag? All of the extra clothes and necessities Ginny had packed in preparation for a speedy departure? Was her plan over before it-?

"She already had nappies with her," her father answered her silent question while checking his pocket watch. "She hasn't left the house without them since Victorie was born. You know how organized your Mum likes to be."

"Yes, she does." Ginny sank back onto the wall a bit in relief.

Her relief turned to confusion in the next instant when her father placed a small leather pouch in her palm and folded his own hand over it.

"Don't look at me," he ordered quietly, still fiddling with his watch with his free hand, "and don't say a word. Act natural. Don't draw any attention our way. Your mother will be back shortly and we'll be in court soon. No time to waste."

"Dad, what are you-?"

"It's not a lot of money, just what I had on me. It'll help, though. Be mindful with spending during your travels. Only buy the bare minimum of what you need and never, ever spend money on lodging. Make camp wherever you can, but be mindful of using too much magic. If the weather's a bother, trade a day's labor for a place to sleep. Don't stay in one place too long in the beginning. Give it a few years for the trail to grow cold. If you can, wait until the boy is old enough for school until you make a permanent residence."

Ginny's fingers shook around the money pouch. Arthur gripped them tightly to calm her.

"How did you know?" she whispered.

"Your mother had nappies, but she forgot the wipes. Of all the days for her bottomless handbag to fail her." He laughed a little. Only Ginny was close enough to hear the small sob hiding beneath it. "I grabbed them for her from your bag. I saw your flowers in there. The Arcus Violets we gave you from our wedding and…well, we both know what those mean to you."

Ginny swallowed and nodded. Whatever wall her dried petals had hung on was the place she called home.

"You're going to wait until after the recess is called, correct? Then use the Floo network to get away?"

"Yes."

"Good, very good. But instead of going all the way to the Atrium, go down to the Department of Mysteries. From the lifts, walk towards your left until you see a door that has red knob. Tap it three times with your wand and say, 'Egredior' to get it to open. On the other side is a fireplace used for Ministry employees in the event of a sudden attack. The Aurors will search the public fireplaces first. It should buy you about fifteen minutes or so. Use them well."

"You're not going to try to talk me out of this?"

"Is that what you want me to do right now? Tell you what a mistake you're making and that you need to put your faith and trust in the laws we worked so hard to preserve?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"Sweetheart, I hope that the court justly sees what a fine mother you are. I'll hope that until the last possible second. But I also know what it is to have to live without your child. I had no control over what happened to Fred, no way to rewrite the horror of living past my child's time. You, though, have control over what happens to your own son." He squeezed her hand even tighter, almost crushing her fingers to the point of pain. "I'll miss you every second of every day, just like your brother, but at least with you I'll know that something good has been gained by losing your light in my life."

"T-Thank you," Ginny mumbled feebly, mentally slapping herself as she did. "No, that wasn't right. I just…don't know what I'm supposed to say right now."

How does one use words to thank a person for loving them so much they were willing to say goodbye forever, no matter how much it might hurt?

"Don't say anything. I'll have to use a Memory Charm on myself after we're done talking so the Aurors won't be able to find anything useful from me. The less I know, the easier it'll be." Slowly, he let go over her hand and she curled her fingers around the bag as her father used his own to stroke over her knuckles like a kiss from a butterfly's wings. "Just promise me you'll cherish every moment you have with your boy. Then everything will be worth it."

"I promise."

"Promise what, luv?" Molly asked, catching the tail end of their conversation as she walked back to them with the Snitch.

Arthur answered before Ginny could even raise her eyes to her mother.

"She promises that she will let me take my grandson to his first Quidditch game when this nonsense is through." He wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulder, tugging her close, while Ginny discreetly tucked the pouch into the pocket of her robe. "Just like I did with his uncles and his mother."

"As long as it's a Harpies home game," Ginny replied, smiling slightly and letting herself imagine a world where she and her father were holding her son, watching and cheering as her former team lit up the scoreboard.

It would have been a very nice place to live.

Molly bristled and adjusted the baby's blanket. "Well, certainly not in this weather. It's much too chilly to be taking this little lad out of the house, even with Warming Charms."

Ginny was—for a moment—grateful for the day's stress. It was the only reason she could come up with that allowed such a blatant lie to slip past her mother. She reached for her son and held him close.

The feel of his warm body—of the little puffs of his breath against her neck—was so hypnotizing that she didn't realize it was time to enter the courtroom until Hermione appeared in front of her.

"Are you ready, Ginny?"

_No. Not at all. Not by any stretch or leap or bound am I ready to leave everything I know behind, Hermione. _

Instead, Ginny stood and placed a lingering kiss on her son's forehead.

_But I'll do it for you, sweetheart. I'll do anything for you._

"There we are," Molly said, taking the baby back. "You, Grandpa, and I are going to wait in the conference room while Mummy goes and talks to the nice judge."

Guided by impulse, Ginny reached for her mother and hugged her as strongly as she dared to with the Snitch between them.

"I love you, Mum."

"Why, I love you too, dear." She pulled back and cupped Ginny's cheek with her free hand. "Don't look so troubled. Everything is going to work out in your favor. I know it will."

Ginny only nodded. If she tried to speak, she couldn't trust what her words would be.

Her father took her in his arms next, bending his head to put his lips near her ear. "How many times do you tap the doorknob?"

"Daddy, I love you so much," she said into his chest.

"How many times, Ginevra?"

She paused for small sniffle. "Three."

"And the password?"

"Egredior."

"Good girl." With a sigh, he released her to kiss her forehead. "We'll take good care of the little lad until you're done in there. I've got lots of stories to tell him about all the trouble his mother got into and caused when she wasn't that much bigger than him."

"He'll like that." With Hermione's hand on her back, Ginny stared back at her parents longingly not looking away, even as she nearly collided with a mousey, pockmarked young woman, until they turned the corner to enter through the gothic wooden doors.

The instant they passed through them, Ginny felt a bout of dizziness overcome her.

"You're fine," Hermione reassured, keeping a firm grip on her elbow. "It's the spells placed on the room."

"The ones that slow down time?"

"Yes, otherwise we'd be hearing testimony on this matter for weeks. What's five hours to us in here will be maybe five minutes out there."

"I think I might throw up."

You'll feel better in a moment, but it'll happen again when you leave. Believe me, a temporary dizziness is nothing compared to what I was dealing with my third year."

Hermione's next words were hushed and clipped as they made their way further into the courtroom past the benches filling with factions from both sides to their table up front.

"The most important thing is to answer only what is asked of you when you're on the stand being questioned. Never offer more information than necessary. Let's practice: Ms. Weasley, do you know what time it is?"

"It's-"

"Ginny!"

"I mean, yes I know what times it is."

"Excellent. Now remember, Lionel and his witnesses are probably going to say horrible things about you; lies and half-truths they'll twist into knots. You **mustn't **react to anything they say. No outbursts, no eye-rolling, no mutterings under your breath. The judge cannot be given any reason to question your maturity or emotional stability, especially considering the issues about your past depression that will eventually come up. Understood?"

"Yes."

"When you're asked about the long hours you might have to work in your new job, you answer will be…?"

"My mother—who has raised seven children of her own—will be helping me with childcare until my son's old enough for school. In the event she can't, I have a wonderful network of supportive family and friends to assist me. When I'm not traveling for games, I'll be able to write from home so I'll be fully available for whatever my son needs."

"And if they make an issue of you not giving him a formal name yet?"

"It's an important decision that my son will have to carry with him the rest of life. With his early birth, learning to care for a newborn, and this custody matter all converging so close together, I didn't think it was something I could put my whole focus into yet. When this is settled, he'll be given a name."

_Just not the one he really wants_, Ginny thought fleetingly.

Giving her head a firm shake as she took her seat beside Hermione, she tried to dislodge both her nausea and that silly notion before it took root. Thinking of the name James would only lead her to think of someone named Harry, and if she needed to remain emotionally stable at the moment, Harry should be the last thing on her mind.

"Ginny, look at me," Hermione said. She waited until Ginny turned to her. "Take a deep breath. You are an excellent mother and we will prove that to the judge so you can leave this building with your son. If we just keep our calm and be clear in our arguments, we have an excellent chance of winning today."

The door to the judge's private chambers opened and a gray-haired man whose portly build and lack of height brought to mind an overfilled balloon entered. Everyone else in the room stood at attention until, according to his gold-plated nameplate, the Honorable Humphrey Hatcher Hollister took his seat at the bench. He offered a curt nod of acknowledgement to Ginny's table. When he turned to the table of Lionel and his own lawyer, the nod was deferential and there was a hint of a smile underneath his bushy mustache.

In one fell swoop, Ginny's stomach vanished far off into the Infinite, taking along with it all of her nebulous hopes that the image and influence Lionel had spent years crafting would not be the deciding factor in the courtroom that day.

_No, Hermione. We will not be winning anything today. But rest assured I will be leaving this courtroom with my son._

The proceedings began quickly, with Hermione and Lionel's attorney (the eely Mr. Compton) presenting their cases before the judge. Her friend's words seemed to be impassioned and articulate, but Ginny heard none of them. Her mind was too busy refining her escape to the utmost degree and saying all the goodbyes she would never say to those she loved so much.

_Mum and Dad…I can't even…you are the only people I would ever want to call my parents. Whatever we lacked in money was more than fulfilled with laughter and warm cuddles by the fireplace. If I can be to my son even half of what you were to me, I'll stand tall with pride every day. Thank you for all you gave me in life._

_Ron, you were the best big brother and I always felt safe with you. What happened with the diary wasn't your fault and I hope you can forgive yourself someday. Please take good care of Mum and Dad. Visit with them often and give them lots of grandchildren to make up for my absence. Do whatever Hermione tells you because we both know she'll be right and tell her how wonderful it was having her as my first sister._

_George, please keep making the whole world laugh and let that laughter keep healing you…Bill, raise your little girls to love tree climbing as much as they love tea parties so they'll have a strength to match their beauty…Percy, I'm so grateful you came back to us before we lost you for good, even if we do tease you for being such a bore…Charlie, live your life the way you want to and don't let Mum make you believe you made the wrong choices if they make you happy._

_Nell, you gave me a chance when you had every reason in the world not to. No one in the world has a bigger heart than you do. I can never thank you for all the care you gave to me and my son and it's my deepest wish that someday soon you have your own child to shower with love._

_Bart, despite your struggles, you've been gifted with a pure heart and I hope very much that you will keep it through whatever struggles you have left to face. I also hope that you get to meet your little Sophie and that she can help you heal from something that was never your fault to begin with._

_Thank you, Gwenog for helping me to get something most people never do: The chance to live out childhood dreams flying through the sky. You were the best teacher I ever had and I'll be running our same team drills with my son someday soon._

_Neville, the students of Hogwarts during Voldemort's rule would never have made it without you. The Sorting Hat made the right choice. You are a Gryffindor through and through and I was honored to lead Dumbledore's Army with you._

_Luna, you see the world in the way I wish could, full of wonder and beauty no matter how great the darkness sometimes feels. My greatest thanks to you for showing me the way to Hastom. I hope when my son is grown that he can return and live in that place we were lucky enough to call home for a short while, all because of you._

_Harry..._

_No, _she thought before his face could materialize in her mind. _I've already said my goodbyes to him, dozens of times over. No more. There's only so much a person can survive doing in a single day._

Still, as the parade of witnesses both she and Lionel had gathered marched to and fro from the witness stand, Harry's face—his eyes in particular—kept cropping back in Ginny's imagination and it wasn't the looks of fiery passion from when they rocked together intertwined or the mirth of watching Ron and Hermione bicker in the library or even the strength as he and Tom Riddle circled around one another that she lingered on. Rather, it was the few memories she had of seeing nothing but peace in Harry's eyes that flashed before her:

Flying with him around the Burrow the summer before her fifth year, the first time in years he had simply been a teenage boy enjoying the break from school as opposed to a targeted contestant or a teacher among his fellow students.

Their afternoons by the lake at Hogwarts, leaning against the tree bark and talking (or decidedly not talking) for hours on end about everything except the war trying to encroach upon them.

Looking down at her as she slowly woke up on one of the couches in the Common Room after the Final Battle, his fingers gliding seamlessly through her hair.

Trying to explain to an eight-month old Teddy that the broom he had just received from Father Christmas was something to sit on, not something to try and eat.

Laughing at Bart and Nell's kitchen table as Bart demonstrated at length the many, many variations Muggles had of something called a "spit take" that left them all gleefully soaked.

Showing him the latest ultrasound images Nell had taken of the Snitch…Listening to him talk to her distended belly about where exactly to find the best Shepard's Pie in Great Britain…Feeling his hands on her stomach as he tried to soothe the baby back to sleep…Smelling that strangely delightful combination of baby powder and his aftershave as he sat close by for the third feeding of the night…Reading to the baby…Changing his nappies…Staring down at the Snitch as he lay asleep in the bassinette…

_It wasn't an illusion to me, Harry. Not for a minute. It may have scared me out of my mind when I tried to figure everything out in my head, but it was always real. How could you not feel-?_

The loud bang of the gavel broke Ginny out of her stupor and she turned to Hermione in a daze as the courtroom began to empty.

"What's happening? I-Is it over?"

Hermione frowned as she stood. "No, we're in recess. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"But I haven't testified yet. Has he already decided to-?"

"Of course not, Ginny. The judge was feeling a bit peaky so we're taking a short break for lunch. I think even when he's not in a time-controlled room he probably eats every half hour or so.

Lunch…Eating…Feeding…

"I need to feed the baby!" Ginny said quickly as she stood and took off for the door, glancing quickly to see Lionel smiling merrily and kissing his mother on the cheek.

No, he would never know what her son looked like

There was no doubt in Ginny's mind that the "unbiased" judge was already bought and paid for. Winning was impossible, but escape certainly wasn't and she wasn't about to delay a second longer.

"What? It's only been two or three minutes out there, the baby won't be-"

Ginny was already edging her way out the door, past her loved ones and into the hallway. In her haste to begin her breakaway, she had forgotten the physical reactions that came along with exiting the room.

Groping for the wall, Ginny pressed forward against the turmoil rolling through her stomach, searching for her mother and her baby. Every minute she wasted was one she would never get back.

A hand took her shoulder and interrupted her mission.

She looked up to glare at the offender and found Bart standing over her. "Ginny, hang on a minute."

"Let go of me," she ground out.

"You need to come with me."

"I need to find my son."

"No." Bart turned her to face him, staring at her gravely, the scroll he was holding in his left hand crinkling against her shoulder. "Trust me. You need to come with me right now. This very second." Without waiting for a response, Bart pulled her away from the wall with a quick step.

"Where are my mother and the baby?"

"They're both fine. They're still in one of the conference rooms and we're going to go in the other one."

"For what?"

"What we know in my native land as a Hail Mary." Cramming the scroll into his pocket, he shoved Ginny in an empty room with a long wooden table and a dozen or so chairs in the middle of it.

Empty except for the young woman with poor skin Ginny had nearly run over before she walked into the hearing. She blinked slowly at Ginny and the rest of the room, trying to get her bearings

"Who is she?" Without waiting for Bart's answer, she turned to the woman. "Who are you?"

"This might go quicker if we wait for everyone else to get here. Ron's getting our ladies and Dresden's people together. Let's give him a minute or two."

"Wait for Lionel?" He was the very last person in the world she wanted to be in a room with. Everything was spinning out of her control and she gripped the edge of the table to keep herself steady.

_What is going on? I…I can't wait here. I need to get to the-_

"Ms. Weasley, please." The young woman spoke in a quiet voice with an American accent. Ginny was unsure of what region exactly. Her pronunciations were slightly different than Bart's yet she had no detectable drawl. The glaze of confusion melted away as she continued, "I know this all must seem crazy, but I can help you if you'll stay and listen."

"Help me do what?"

The mystery woman gave Ginny tiny smile that couldn't lift the pain from her eyes. "Keep your baby safe from his father."

Ginny only had time for her eyes to widen before the door opened behind her. Nell and Hermione entered and immediately ushered Ginny further into the room as Lionel, Mrs. Bedford-Dresden, and their lawyer followed them, looks of bored curiosity on their faces. Ron brought up the rear and shut the door when he was inside, joining Ginny and the others on one side while the Dresden's small group stood at the other.

Only the mystery woman remained where she was, starting to tremble as her eyes fixed on Lionel. He gave her a few looks up and down before he leaned back against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets, nary a care to be found. Ginny wanted to smack him across his smug face.

"What is this all about?" Mr. Compton asked. "The judge will want be back in the courtroom soon unless Ms. Weasley wants to finally agree to do right by her son and grant my client full custody of the boy?"

"We're going to call him Xavier, after my late grandfather," Lionel smirked.

"That's not his name," Ginny said at once from behind Nell, "and I'll never let you put your filthy hands on him."

Mrs. Bedford-Dresden's curiosity quickly became annoyance. "If you think just because you gave birth to my grandson that I will stand for letting you speak to my son that way, then you are sorely-"

"I need your help, Mr. Nixon," the still-nameless woman said loudly to Bart, never taking her eyes off Lionel. "I-I was born a Squib and I haven't done magic in a very long time."

He nodded and stepped closer to her, holding his wand over her face.

"Who is this woman?" Mr. Compton asked with more force. "What business does she have here?"

Bart gave Lionel a smirk of his own. "You're about to find out." Turning back to the woman, he waved his wand around the diameter of her face. "_Amoveo_," he mumbled and stepped back.

Ginny and the rest of the room watched in awe as the remarkably plain woman's face began to shift and remold itself. Her nose thinned out and her lips became plumper; all of the scars and freckles disappeared to reveal smooth skin the shade of porcelain, with high, sharp cheekbones and a delicate arch to her brow. Her hair lengthened past her shoulders, turning a rich chestnut as it did and when she finally opened her eyes, the dull brown was replaced with a magnificent hazel.

She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman Ginny had ever seen. She was so lost in shock of the woman's exquisiteness that she nearly missed the gasp of shock Angelique Bedford-Dresden emitted.

"Sara? Sara Walters?"

Slowly, the beauty before them all nodded.

With slow deliberation, Angelique walked forward until she was right in front of Sara and carefully put her hands on the other woman's cheeks. "Is it really you?"

"Yes ma'am." Fat tears began to slip down Sara's face. "You…You bought me a bunny rabbit for my eighth birthday and I named him Gummy because…"

"Your nana made the best gumbo in the state of Louisiana. Oh my sweet Merlin!" Angelique threw her arms around Sara and laughed out loud with joy, rocking the pair of them back and forth. In turn, Sara nestled closer to the older woman and let her tears glide freely as she basked in the comfort of what seemed to be a familiar embrace.

Completely baffled as to what was going, Ginny tore her eyes away from the happy scene and happened to catch a glimpse of Lionel still leaning against the wall, although his posture was anything but relaxed.

In fact, nothing about him was relaxed.

The man looked bloody terrified as he took in his mother and Sara's reunion until he realized Ginny was looking at him. His features tried to recover, but the confidence he was soon projecting was merely a mask.

_He's scared. The bastard is scared of whatever this Sara woman has to say._

"Wait, wait, wait!" Reluctantly, Angelique pulled back while still keeping Sara close to her. "W-Where have you been? You've been gone over ten years…You just…The fire…"

"Who is this woman, Mrs. Bedford-Dresden, and how do you know her?" Mr. Compton asked from his corner, his eyes going back and forth between mother and son.

"She's Sara Walters. Her family, her momma's family the Hewett's, they've worked in the Bedford household for over two hundred years. I was pregnant with Lionel when her momma was pregnant with her."

"Ma'am, is…is my momma…?" Sara choked out tearfully. Ginny noticed the more she spoke, the more her accent started to sound like Lionel and Angelique's. "Is she still with us?"

"Yes, yes of course she is."

"And Nana Hewett?" Angelique slowly shook her head and Sara crumpled down into one of the empty chairs.

Angelique let her cry for a moment or two before she gently prompted her chin up.

"Where in this world have you been, young lady? We all thought…your grandmother went off into the next life thinking she was going to see you there waiting for her."

"Wait, was this the girl involved in that Wildfire potion accident at your plantation property in the Bayou?" Mr. Compton broke in. "The girl was creating a batch of Wildfire in the carriage house and she lost control of it, correct? The whole building went up in flames with her in it before help could arrive."

"Yes," Sara said, slowly regaining control. "That was me. I mean to say, it was me who set the fire in the building, but I was already safe outside when the fire started."

Angelique sank down into the chair opposite Sara, mouth hanging open in shock.

"Why," she finally asked after a stunned pause, "would you ever feel the need to do such a terrible thing?"

A storm darkened in Sara's eyes as she looked over Angelique's shoulder. "Perhaps that's something you should ask your son, ma'am."

Lionel had the room's attention yet his eyes bored straight into Sara's; the angry energy passing between the two of them was so intense that if they were dueling, the pair of them would already be dead.

"Ms. Walters, if you could tell your story from the beginning," Hermione said, "I think that would be most helpful."

"Well," she began, "it's like Mrs. Bedford-Dresden said. Lionel and I were born around the same time. We grew up together. Of course, since I lived in the servant's quarters he didn't bother too much with me, especially after he went off to study with those private tutors. That summer when we turned sixteen, though, and he was home on break he couldn't get enough of me. Could you, Lionel?"

"You stupid bitch," he growled from his corner, leaning forward until Mr. Compton put a tight, restraining hand on his shoulder.

"G-Go on," Angelique said fearfully.

"I should have known better than to fall in love with him. The other maids gossiped about him enough when no one else was listening. I knew his reputation, but then he would look at me, brush my hair back from my face and I was lost. The most eligible young bachelor along the length of the Mississippi and he wanted me. All of me. Every spare moment he had over every flat surface in your house, if you'll pardon my language, ma'am."

She finally lowered her eyes away from Lionel's, keeping them on a spot at the table.

"I thought I had been careful. I thought that I had taken my potion every day, but I must have missed a dose because by the Fourth of July fireworks, I was pregnant." Angelique sucked in an unsteady breath as Sara continued. "My momma raised me to believe that all life is precious and that it starts the same for all of us. When I told Lionel, he tried to convince me that my momma had been wrong. I didn't listen and eventually I thought that I had convinced him of how right I was." She curled her lip against a bitter memory. "He said…He said that it was alright. That we'd wait until I was a little further along before we told our families and for a few weeks, he was wonderful. He held me close after we made love. He bought me a beautiful necklace made of sterling silver for my birthday. He made sure I was eating well and…and he made sure I drank my tea every night. My special tea, the one he brewed to help me with my nausea."

_Oh Godric no,_ Ginny thought, horrified at what she knew was to come.

"In August that summer, the night before your birthday celebration, ma'am, I started having awful pains in my stomach. I went to Lionel and he said that he had a potion to help. He said it would save our baby so I took it with my tea. It didn't, though. It just put me to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, there was blood all over my sheets and…and…I knew…" Sara struggled to hold back a sob. "I was in shock. I-I threw the sheets and my nightgown into the trash and scrubbed out the stain on the mattress before I sat in the shower for about an hour or so, just crying my eyes out. When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to go find Lionel, to tell him our child was gone, I found him and his friends outside by the pool and the little bottle-blonde he had draped over his lap had most of his attention." Fresh tears spilled over and she seemed to have trouble catching her breath.

"What did you do after that?" Hermione asked when Sara didn't continue.

Sara took a knuckle to her teeth and bit down tightly until she was settled again. "My momma didn't raise me to be an idiot. I took the teacup from the night before to the local apothecary. The witch told me that I had been given a rather potent aborticide that was stronger than anything she had ever seen before. There was only such a small trace of the potion in the tea because the full amount required to kill the baby would have killed me, too. There was just a little put in the tea each night and it built up in my system. She told me that whoever had brewed the potion was quite dangerous and that I should be very careful about what I did next.

"I didn't think anyone in the house would believe me and I was afraid if I did say something, Lionel would hurt me or someone in my family. I knew I had to leave quickly so he wouldn't try to kill me before I talked, but if I just disappeared, people would look for me. They'd ask questions and I didn't think my family would be safe so…so I remembered an old potion book my nana kept, one that had potions people didn't use anymore because they were very hazardous. One of them was for Wildfire. I knew it would burn hot and fast and it wouldn't leave anything to identify. That night, when the birthday cake was being cut, I packed a few things and then I threw the bottle of Wildfire I had brewed at the carriage house. I barely made it to the tree line before the whole building was ablaze. I…I waited to leave town though until I was sure that everyone thought…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I watched my own funeral. I watched my…my nana cry her eyes out and then I saw my momma throw herself on the coffin…"

Angelique moaned and put her face in her hands, shaking silently.

"I left for up North after that. Found a wizard to take my life savings in exchange for a new faceso even if anyone came across me, they wouldn't know it was me. I lived a pretty nice life up near Boston. Quiet. Lonely. No contact with anything magical until I saw this on my bedside table one day." She placed a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on the table. Ginny could see it was the infamous one of Lionel announcing himself as her baby's father. "I knew I had to come back and stop him. To protect that little boy the way I couldn't protect my own." She put a tentative arm around Angelique's trembling shoulder. "Ma'am you are a good woman, a woman all others should aspire to be like. Your son…I don't know what happened to him. I don't know why your love wasn't enough for him and he became what he did, but you're his momma and he's your responsibility. You have to stop him from hurting anyone else the way he hurt me."

Hermione placed a gentle hand on Sara's shoulders. "Why do I have the feeling," she began in a cool voice, "that if we were to take a peek at her memories in a Pensieve that they wouldn't be nearly as muddled or confusing as Ginny's seem to be? Doesn't surprise me. I suppose a teenage wizard orchestrating an illegal abortion and poisoning has other things on his mind besides tampering with the memories of his victim." She raised an eyebrow towards Mr. Compton. "I think it would be appropriate for you to explain to your client the kind of trouble he's in."

Lionel laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Lionel, please don't say a word," Mr. Compton said.

"All they have is her word against mine, a woman who just confessed to arson, to putting dozens of people in danger so she could run away because of threats she imagined I would make. In a completely different country than we are currently in ergo it has no relevance to this case whatsoever. Yes, I'd love to see what the judge thinks of her when she takes the stand."

"She won't be taking the stand," Angelique said, slowly lifting her head and keeping it straight ahead.

"Thank you, Mother. I knew you wouldn't-"

"She won't take the stand because the hearing will not continue. Mr. Compton will go to the judge and withdraw our petition for custody right this minute."

Ginny felt Nell squeeze her from behind as the mechanics of breathing escaped her.

This wasn't actually happening, was it?

"Yes, ma'am."

"Like hell he will!" Lionel exploded, slamming the table with his hand. Everyone in the room flinched except for Angelique. "When Lionel Dresden says he's going to do something, it fucking gets done! I'm paying this lawyer a shitload of money to get me that kid and-"

"YOU ARE NOT PAYING HIM A DAMN THING!" Angelique roared as she stood up to her son. "I OWN THE MAJORITY SHARES OF YOUR COMPANY! IT IS MY COMPANY AND IF I SAY THAT YOU ARE TO PUT AN END TO ALL THIS, THEN YOU WILL!"

From the slack of his jaw, it seemed Lionel had never heard his mother's voice raised to him in quite that way, if ever at all.

"You wanted your grandchild, Mother. I-I was getting him for you so that-"

"I would keep the purse strings open so you could have your money because that's the only thing you ever truly wanted from me, Lionel Carol Dresden." Angelique heaved a great sigh through her whole body. "You're my only baby and I've loved you with everything I had, but I…I always knew, deep down, that as you got older you didn't share the values I tried to instill in you. But to know you hurt this girl," she pointed to Sara, "this beautiful, sweet girl, it makes me sick to my stomach. And if I even start to imagine you murdering an innocent-"

"Oh, don't call it a baby! We all know it wasn't nothing except a mistake I corrected before it was too late!"

Sara rose on shaky limbs in the silence that followed Lionel's outburst.

"If ya'll will excuse me, I have to leave," she whispered. "If I'm in this room with him for another second, I think I'll c-choke the life out him." Taking her hand out of Angelique's, she edged past Ginny and her group; Nell and Ron moved to help support her the rest of the way out of the room.

"Mr. Compton, I believe we should meet with the judge in his chambers before he calls the court back to session," Hermione said. He nodded in agreement and the two lawyers exited the room swiftly.

The look of disgust Lionel gave his mother filled Ginny with sorrow for the other woman. To bring a child in this world, to raise it as best you could only to it have it look at you later with such contempt…was there anything worse?

"Well, Mother, I suppose I owe you a debt. Now I can leave England a little earlier than planned and attend to business back home without worrying about giving up my game room for a nursery. Thank you kindly, good lady." He bowed mockingly.

"And if I were you," Bart chimed in, "I would make sure my calendar is clear for a good long while. There's going to be some wizards from American law enforcement wanting to have a word with you after they hear Ms. Walters's story; the kind of wizards your money won't be able to buy off. They're friends of mine so I would know."

Lionel ignored him in favor of sneering at Ginny.

"I guess congratulations are in order," he told her. "Can't think of a witch or wizard who hogtied me quite like this. Rest assured, if we ever happen to meet again, the outcome will not be the same." He left the room and Ginny's life with his head held high.

"You won't be meeting with him again," Angelique said, utterly defeated, "nor will that money be his for much longer. You have my word, Mr. Nixon, that he'll present himself to the authorities once we're back home. My lawyers will see to it."

"Bart, can you give us a moment please?" Ginny asked him.

"Sure. I'll go tell your mother to start planning the Snitch's first birthday party. It'll take her a few months just to invite everyone." He kissed her cheek sweetly and nodded to Angelique as he left, leaving the women alone.

"The Snitch?" Angelique asked after a moment. "Is that what you're calling my…your son?"

"It's just a nickname. He hasn't liked anything else I've tried on him."

Ginny didn't know if she had ever felt sorrier for anyone. The woman in front of her had lost everything—her image of her child, her dignity, maybe even her taste for life—all so quickly yet she still held herself up with a strength that she had to have been blessed with at birth.

"I don't know what I did wrong," Angelique thought out loud. "Maybe I just let him have everything to the point where it became nothing. Maybe he was just born with his daddy's black heart. Maybe a potion or a medicine he took when he was a boy just turned his mind evil. Or maybe he was just angry at me his whole life because his middle name comes from his great-grandmother." She cracked the tiniest wisp of a smile. "Who knows?"

"I think you did the best you possibly could and that he had every opportunity to make different choices than the ones he did."

"I think that others say people did the best they possibly could only after those people have failed and when you fail, the reasons why don't matter."

Ginny had gained too much respect for her to try and convince Angelique otherwise. All she wanted was to take some of the poor woman's suffering away.

"Would you like to meet the baby?"

For the first time since they entered the conference, the start of tears began to shine in Angelique Bedford-Dresden's eyes.

"Very much so, but I'm afraid I will have to respectfully decline."

"Why?"

"Because now that I know what my son did to poor Sara—and Godric knows how many other innocent girls he may have done such a thing to—right under my very nose, I just…I don't think I have the right to put that sweet little baby boy in my arms."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"Ms. Weasley, I brought a monster into this world," Angelique said, not even seeming to hear Ginny, "and even with knowing what he is, I'm still going to love him until the end of my days. When he stands trial in America or anywhere else, I'll hire the best lawyers to defend him. I'll always give him food, shelter, and whatever bits of my love he's willing to accept. Because no matter what, I once held him in my arms, when he was screaming and hollering with his first breaths, and vowed to keep him safe always. You shouldn't let someone like me, someone who created and still loves a monster, be around your Snitch."

"Let them put him in prison," Ginny tried. "It's where he belongs. It'll let you move on with your life, start fresh."

Angelique nodded in agreement.

"Yes, that would probably be the best thing for everyone, maybe even for Lionel. Could you ever start fresh, though, or face yourself in the mirror if someone was trying to put your boy in jail and you didn't lift a finger to help him?"

"I'd let you see him, my son, if you let go of Lionel. You're a part of who he is."

"So is Lionel."

"He's the monster, not you. He's the one that needs to pay for his crimes, not you. Don't you want to know your grandson? Please don't let Lionel take something like that from you."

With steady hands, Angelique wiped her face of all wetness and smoothed down her robes.

"You're still new at this adventure called motherhood so I'll let you in on a little trade secret: No matter what, you always choose your child. Even if it kills you, even it kills someone else, even if it costs you everything you want for yourself, you choose the child." She gave Ginny one last attempt at a smile. "Please tell Sara to find her way back home when you see her and if you ever need anything for your son, please feel free to contact to me at any time."

"I'll think we'll be fine."

"Yes, I do believe you will be. You seem the type." With hardly a turn, Angelique Bedford-Dresden vanished from the room.

The full weight of what had taken only fifteen or twenty minutes washed over Ginny and she almost staggered out of the room, hand clutched over her pounding heart to be greeted to the sight of her son safe in his grandmother's arms, surrounded by her friends and family

Her mother met her halfway the distance between them. "I told you it would be fine!" Molly said. "You've never listened to me when I try to tell you things."

"So why start now?" Ginny took her gurgling son back, every trace of fear and anxiety from the past month fading away. She would never let herself take for granted what a gift she knew him to be.

As soon as the thought floated by, Ginny caught a glimpse of Sara standing on the fringes of the group and walked over to her.

"Thank you," she said earnestly. "With everything inside me, thank you."

"You're very welcome, the both of you." Sara's hand reached out to rub up and down the baby's back. "He's just the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Aren't you, you precious cherub?"

At the attention, the Snitch's hair turned peacock blue and Sara blinked in surprise.

"He's a Meta?"

"An Almet, actually. One that likes to show off for strangers."

"You know, Mrs. Bedford Dresden had a great-uncle or something that was an Almet. She used to show me pictures of him, though in black and white you really can't tell much difference."

"She told me to tell you that you're welcome to go back to Louisiana. I'm sure your mother would love to see you."

"Oh, not nearly as much as I'd love to see her and home, as well. Andover, Massachusetts is very peaceful, but it's not nearly as magical as New Orleans. It surprised me considering how near it is to Salem, you would think that-"

"It's not magical, where you live now?" Ginny furrowed her brow.

"Not particularly, no."

"Then how did you know about the hearing and Lionel?"

"I told you, the newspaper article in my apartment."

"Yes, but how did the paper get there if you don't live near anything magical, is my question."

"It…" Sara's eyes glazed over slightly, searching her memories, "it was there, in my apartment. The paper was just there a few days ago."

"How? Could you have a neighbor who-?"

"No, I don't think so."

"So where did it come from?"

"I can't answer that."

"Well, how did you know to find Bart today?"

The glaze in her eyes deepened. "He…He was the first person I saw come out of your courtroom."

"That was a bit lucky, wasn't it? Just finding someone who was immediately on my side and didn't brush you off?"

Sara shrugged a little. "I'm not sure of that. I'm very sure of one thing, though."

"Which is?"

"You get to watch your baby grow up in peace largely because of that newspaper being in my apartment. If I were you, and there's no way to properly describe how much I wish I was, then I'd just go with feeling blessed the paper was there to begin with rather than worrying over where it came from." She leaned down to kiss the baby's downy hair. "That's just me, of course."

_It's not going to do any good, seeing shadows around every corner and waiting for disaster to strike. She's right. It's time to start walking ahead._

"I hope you'll come back to England and see us soon."

Sara hugged her quickly. "I hope to have the whole world in front of me soon, just like you, Ginny Weasley."

Staring at her loved ones celebrating and making plans, Ginny felt the bite of heartache give a little tug, not as strong as days past but enough still to dull her joy.

Because contrary to Sara's belief, the whole world was not laid out in front of her; not when such a large piece of it was hiding and refusing to speak to her.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Harry,<em>

_Lionel is out of my life for good. He'll never come near the baby. Now I just need you to come near us._

_Please talk to me. If not that, at least please don't leave._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_You don't owe a day of your life to anyone, least of all eight whole years of it. Reconsider what you're doing before it's too late. _

_I can't fix this unless you talk back. Please talk back._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_Gryffindors are known for their bravery, not for their unwillingness to respond to a simple letter or seven._

_Put a quill in your hand, dip it in ink, and write words on parchments. This is not above even your seemingly limited intellect._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_Fine, I'll try lightness today. I think Nell's going to end up killing Bart with all the marital relations before she manages to conceive. He's barely able to walk straight nowadays._

_I hope you laugh when you read that. I think you will. I'd rather see it in person._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_This is a little dirty, but you're forcing my hand here. The baby's so adorable I can't stand it. I give him a few more days before he's sitting up on his own. When I have a Cannon's game on the wireless, he starts making funny faces. I bragged about it to Ron. _

_I sent you a picture of the faces. Please come and see them in person._

_Ginny_

_Dear Stubborn Git,_

_You're an insufferable jackass, I hope you know that! I'm not even going to ask you to come see me or write back because I want the chance to ignore you today!_

_You know where I am and where I'll be. Be a man and stop making me do all the work!_

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry I yelled at you on paper. The Snitch has a cold and I didn't sleep much last night. I don't want to yell and I don't want to have to keep writing to you._

_Just come back to Hastom. This is your home. I thought home mattered to you._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_My first editorial was published today. I'm published. That's apparently a big deal for writers. Hermione framed the piece and Mum sent me a cake. I tried to explain it to the Snitch, but it interrupted our fourth straight hour of Peekaboo so I didn't have his full attention._

_Did you see it? I hope you did. I hope it made you proud of me. At least tell me it made you think of me._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_Bribery it is then. If you come back to Hastom, with the exception of my son, you can have anything of mine you'd like: My house, my money, my money I don't have yet, my brooms, my awards, my indentured servitude. Name it and it's yours._

_I know you're talking to other people. Why can't you talk to me? I'm quite dumb so I don't know why. Tell me how dumb I am._

_Ginny_

_Dear Harry,_

_You're leaving tomorrow. You're really leaving. I thought maybe…I have no idea what I thought. It wasn't this, though. It wasn't you disappearing from my life forever. That's possibly the most hypocritical thing I've ever said but so be it. _

_What we had all those months, I know that you feel that_

_That to you it might not have been what it was to_

_People can see the same thing in different ways_

_Don't give up your life. I can see clearly now that you don't want me in it and that's…if that's what you want, then fine. Just stay and live it._

_Ginny_

* * *

><p>Fingering the sealed envelope, Ginny shook her head. She had just sent the last letter that morning and it had come back less than an hour later. Now at seven-thirty that evening, when she was supposed to be finishing a piece on the most historic rivalries in Quidditch, she was still holding a letter that Harry had touched, but never opened.<p>

In his world, she wasn't even worth the effort required to slide a finger between glued papers.

Maybe if she had put more of her thoughts and feelings into her letters, if the envelopes had been thicker than a single piece of parchment, he might have opened one to see what she had to say. She just couldn't. Whenever she tried to put her feelings into words, it felt wrong. The words she had to say weren't meant to be read on a paper. They weren't party invitations or a Christmas card.

It wasn't up to her hand to tell Harry what he meant to her. That was the job of her voice as she was staring right into his eyes so he would believe every word.

Only Harry never gave her the chance.

He never wrote back. He never Flooed. He never collected his things from his house. He never went to a Weasley gathering or came back to Hastom for any of the villages celebrations. He never did anything that would risk him coming into contact with Ginny and whenever she tried to get help from the people he was willing to speak with, she was met with many variations of the notion Hermione had presented in her apartment all those weeks ago. Everyone thought they needed space and time to heal.

Nearly everyone. Nell was the only one sympathetic to her cause. She claimed to be writing as many letters as Ginny was, all to no avail. Bart was remarkably quiet on the subject. No assertions of things being for the best and no attempts to drag Harry out of wherever he was hiding.

It seemed Switzerland was in effect for him once more.

Ginny glanced up at the clock over her small secondhand desk. Harry was leaving at noon tomorrow. In less than seventeen hours, he'd leave to save some part of the world far away.

_So be it then._

She opened the bottom left drawer and placed the last letter on top of the small pile of all the other unopened letters. She'd given Harry every chance to reach out to her and he hadn't. What had been some of the happiest times in her life were really just illusions to him. He had driven that point home with his continued silence.

His choice was made and Ginny's along with it.

"Okay then," she said to herself, grasping the handle of the drawer. Before she could push it close, there was a quiet knock on her door and her heart leapt up so high into her throat, it nearly touched her nostrils.

_This is why romance novels are so bloody popular! Because sometimes they actually do come true!_

Convinced beyond practical reason that Harry would be on the other side of the threshold, laden with flowers and all the love letters he had been too scared to send, Ginny raced to her front door and yanked it wide open.

"Hey," Bart whispered with an easy smile, holding tight to the carrier with her sleeping son inside. "I'm sorry we're a little late. He…He just fell asleep a few minutes ago. Did you get to finish the article?"

"N-No," she replied, feeling the flush of embarrassment overtake her skin. Taking her son quickly, she turned away to try and hide it from her friend.

Why did love make people such idiots? Why didn't it leave room for sound logic and reflection? Why did it have to try and butt in where it wasn't wanted anymore?

And why was it still so easy for her to get sucked into the fantasy world of make-believe where a life with Harry was possible?

"Writer's block?" Bart asked from behind her, shutting the front door and dropping the nappy bag.

"Yeah," she said, going into the kitchen and setting the carrier on the table, letting her son's face heal a tiny piece of her heart. "It's not due until next week, though. Thank you for watching him. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem. Actually, we'd be happy to watch him more if you'd like."

She glanced back to find him leaning against the doorjamb. "Why is that?"

"We need practice. As much as we can get."

Ginny's heart raced for another reason entirely. "Because…?"

Bart smiled crookedly. "I got my wife pregnant."

He was already wrapped in Ginny's hug before the words finished coming out his mouth.

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you."

She kissed his cheek loudly before Summoning the one cheap bottle of wine she had and a glass. "I can't drink this," she told him as it filled, "but I want you to. This is the most wonderful thing that will ever happen to you, Bartowski Nixon, and you will celebrate accordingly."

"As you command." He raised the glass to her and downed it in two gulps.

"How's Nell? How far along is she?"

"Uh, about six weeks or so and she hasn't stopped throwing up since yesterday morning. Pregnancy is actually kind of disgusting."

"Get used to it. There's a lot more of it to come down the pike. She's really sick all the time?"

"Oh yeah."

"Am I a horrible friend if I admit that a part of me can't wait to rub it in her face a little bit?"

"Yes, but she likely won't notice with her head in the toilet."

"Very true." She took his empty glass and brought it to the sink to rinse.

"Ginny?" Bart asked after a few seconds of quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Harry's leaving tomorrow."

There were two small plates next to her. Ginny started washing them so as not to turn back around and let Bart see her pain. This was his night to celebrate, not to have to offer her comfort.

"I know that."

"I mean, leaving for eight years."

"Yes, he made that clear when he told me."

"You've been writing to him, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"And he never answered."

"Yes. I mean, no he never answered."

"Maybe you should try again."

Ginny started scrapping invisible crumbs off the plate with her fingernail. "Because one more might make the difference?"

"It could."

_He's going to be a father. Don't try to kill him._

"Have you talked to him lately?" Ginny asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Yes."

"And did he tell you if I wrote again it would make a difference?"

"Not in so many words."

"In any words?"

"No," Bart admitted. He came closer to her. "Look maybe if you just tried a little-"

"I wrote him twenty-four letters. I've written him every single day since the hearing. I begged for Ron, Hermione, and everyone else who knows the two of us to set up a Floo call. The only reason I didn't ask you was because if he felt like you ambushed him, he might not talk to you again before he left and I didn't want that to happen. Twenty-four letters, Bart. Do you know how many he opened? Zero. He's leaving tomorrow and he doesn't want to see me. I wish I could say I accepted it sooner, but it was honestly two minutes before you knocked on my door that…" Ginny shut the water off and looked up at Bart. "Harry doesn't want to be with me in any way and that's-"

"The biggest load of bullshit in the world!" Immediately, he glanced back to make sure the baby was still asleep before he lowered his voice. "You have no idea what has been going on in that man's head since you turned back up in his life. He's gone through nearly every day from then until now thinking only of you, equal parts happier than I've ever known him to be and terrified that's something going to take you away from him again!"

"W-What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about him being so maddeningly, profusely in love with you that he is willing to throw everything away because he thinks it'll make you happy in the long run." He raised his eyebrows. "Sound at all familiar?"

Ginny checked to make sure the baby was secure in the carrier before she strode into the living room, Bart hot on her trail.

"He said marriage and children aren't for him."

"You know that isn't true."

"He said his work had to be the most important thing in his life."

"Only because he's very, very stupid."

She stopped her pacing by her desk, love fighting against logic inside her. The drawer was still open.

"He said what we had was an illusion. It wasn't real. The bond he had with me and my son wasn't real."

"It was. Nothing in the world was ever as real as what he had with you two. Trust me."

Logic found an opening and moved in swiftly for the kill.

"Trust you. Not Harry. Because Harry isn't the one saying these things to me."

"Ginny…"

"If what you're saying is true, why can't he tell me? If he's so very much in love with me, why do you have to tell me for him?"

"He can't. You know that deep down. Not after everything that's happened between you two. Hell, after everything that's happened his whole life. He doesn't have it in him."

"Or you're just seeing an illusion. Like I did."

Bart was silent for a moment before his eyes widened. "I can make you see the truth. I can show you."

"What?"

"I can show everything Harry feels for you. Come with me to my house right now and I can show you. There won't be any way for you to get it around it. Don't quit yet, not before he's gone. Just…Just come and let me show you before it's too late."

_It's a quick walk to his house. Maybe he's right. Maybe he actually does have a way that will-_

Ginny bent down and slammed the drawer shut before she let herself give into love one more disastrous time.

"Go home and give Nell a big hug for me," she told him.

Bart's shoulders sagged. "Yeah."

"I hope she's alright with a completely over-the-top baby shower."

"Goodnight, Ginny."

He was at the door when love fired off a last round. "Bart? Why did you try and convince me now? What changed?"

"I'm a big believer in free will," he said with hand on the doorknob. "I think, for the most part, people have the right to make choices for themselves, even if they are crazy and irrational. It's not my responsibility to make you live your life the way I think you should. That's why I kept my mouth shut."

"And tonight?"

He looked at her seriously. "I just found out I'm going to be a father and even though I've only known my kid a few hours, there's no scenario in the world I can imagine where I can leave him for eight years without going crazy from the pain."

Ginny heard the door shut behind him, but she didn't see him leave. Her eyes were pulled back to the drawer in her desk.

_You're already in pain. Why not risk being in a little more if the payoff is-?_

"WAAAHHHHH!" The Snitch wailed from kitchen.

Shaking her head clear, Ginny went to her son and began unfastening him from his seat.

"Oh, it's alright, sweetheart," she cooed as one of the clasps refused to open. "Mummy will get you right out."

He seemed to ignore her words. The baby turned his head back and forth, looking around the room and screaming louder when he didn't see what he wanted. His hair started cycling between colors with a pace Ginny had never seen before.

"Did you have a bad dream?" She asked when she finally got him out and held him tight, bouncing him a little in her arms as they walked into the living room. "You're awake now. Nothing can hurt you. Mummy won't let anything hurt you." He continued screaming against her comfort. "Okay, are you still hungry? I bet that's what's wrong."

It wasn't, though. The Snitch wasn't hungry or tired or even sick. He just had an irrepressible need to scream in his mother's arms. The few times he was quiet was when he latched on for quick feedings, but those only lasted moments at a time before the crying began anew. Ginny spent almost the entire night on her feet, walking him around the house and trying to keep her own eyes open.

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><p>Something she was having trouble doing in the light of day.<p>

"Ms. Weasley?" Ginny started up in her seat and found herself face to face with a goblin named Pclarch. "Would you like to go over the information one more time?"

"No," she yawned, her hands automatically reaching into the pram next to her to check on her son. "I'm sure they're fine."

The goblin nodded and left his desk with her paperwork and a sack full of Galleons to walk out onto the main floor of Gringotts to set up the account.

At some point during the long night, when she was telling her son about every single class she ever took at Hogwarts in hopes he'd hear something that would catch his interest, Ginny had had the epiphany that it was time to start a school fund for her son. She had many memories of seeing her mother reach into a nearly empty vault, pinching every last Knut to get Ginny and her brothers what they needed. That would never happen with her child. Just because she had means now was no guarantee she'd have them when he was eleven. So when the clock struck eight at her house, she packed up her fussy son and Flooed to Diagon Alley.

Ginny sighed as she looked into the pram. The Snitch was quieter now, but the frown was still on his face and in between his eyebrows.

"What are so unhappy about? Mummy's being very nice right now and putting money into an account for you for your schooling." She picked up the dummy he had dropped and tried to put it back in his mouth. He turned his head away from her. "I know when I Flooed Auntie Nell at midnight she said you were fine. You didn't have a fever and there were no bruises or bumps on you. I think I'll take you to her when we're done here just to be sure. Or maybe even go to St. Mungos." Her fingers brushed his scalp. "I need you to always be okay."

"Excuse me, Ms. Weasley?" The goblin had returned with the papers, her money, and a ledger tucked under his tiny arm which he promptly put on his desk. "There appears to be an issue with setting up an account in your child's name."

"I thought you said it was alright that he didn't have a legal name yet. I mean, I know it's not alright because he's over three months old and he doesn't have a name, but you said for the account we could use Baby Boy Weasley and his birthdate until he had one."

"That is correct. That is not the issue." He glanced down at the paper. "Your son was born on December 19th of last year?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, there is already a school fund established for a Baby Boy Weasley born on December 19th, 2002. It is not possible to create a duplicate account, but if you wish to add to the present account, then-"

"I'm sorry?" Ginny said, becoming more awake by the minute. "How can that be? I haven't arranged for transfers from my own account."

"It was created from funds not in your name."

_Did Mum and Dad set something up and not tell me? Was there anything left over from our old school funds they let me have?_

"Who created this account?"

Pclarch opened the ledger and ran his bony finger through it until he came to the proper entry.

"The school fund in your son's name was created by a Mr. Harry James Potter and it contains the sum of a little over twelve thousand Galleons that will grow with interest at the rate of-"

At the mention of Harry's name, the baby started whimpering again. With hands quickly going numb from shock, she picked him up and held him. The eyes of every goblin in the bank turned to her, but she didn't notice.

"Th-That's not possible," she said over her son's cries. "That's a mistake."

"Our records are precise to a tee, Ms. Weasley. No respectable goblin would dare make an error where gold is concerned."

"Then…Then… maybe he…" Ginny tried hard to think. "When was it created? The account?"

Months ago, she was sure. During the holidays, maybe the spirit of Christmas consumed him and he had been feeling charitable enough to-

"Mr. Potter used funds from his personal account to create this one three days ago. The transaction was notarized and witnessed in addition to Mr. Potter signing all of the needed documents. Would you like to see them?"

"No," she breathed. "No, thank you." Without another word, she set her son back in the pram as gently as possible, ignoring the questions being hurled at her from the goblin. She couldn't hear them, not over what she was hearing in her head as she pushed her son out of the bank.

_It was us playing house…It wasn't real…An illusion and we both just got caught up in it._

How was twelve thousand Galleons an illusion?

What was Harry doing?

The warm fresh air of early spring was like a slap in the face when Ginny was outside. Breathing it in deeply, hoping like a Draught it would clear her mind, she nearly ran over a small boy with the pram, stopping just in time.

"I'm sorry!" She cried out to the harried mother that took her child firmly by the wrist, busy checking her own child over. "I-I didn't see him."

"Please watch where you're going with that thing," the woman admonished her before looking down at her son. "And you do not run away from me again. Do you understand, James?" She didn't wait for an answer as she led him on.

The Snitch turned his watery eyes up to Ginny. His cries stopped at once as mother and son took each other in. She only broke away when she heard a clock chime in the shop across the street. It was nine.

Harry would be gone in three hours.

She glanced back down in the pram. "We need to go see Uncle Bart. Right now."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: I just…I have no words right now. (Except the 15,000 or so following this paragraph) This chapter, specifically the last scene in it, is the culmination of over a year's worth of work and I cannot believe the amazing experience I had getting there. Thank you to my betas for their amazingly fast work for this amount of text. I'm so grateful to you guys in helping me figure out this maze. Please, everyone, read, enjoy, and drop me a line if the mood strikes you.**

Ginny switched to gnawing on the thumb of her right hand, the one on the left already bit bloody. Even though she cursed herself every time they did, her eyes kept straying to the clock in Bart's small study. She had been in the cluttered room alone for seven minutes and all of them were endless.

_Why did I leave the baby with Nell? _She thought yet again. _At least if he was here, my heart rate could settle…Oh where the hell is Bart?! What is taking him so long?! There's no time to waste!_

Fate picked a grand time to grant her something she actually wished for. Bart's lanky form flew into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot, his hands carrying several vials filled with misted silvery liquid. Without looking at Ginny, he dropped them unceremoniously on his desk and went to the wooden cabinet, opening it to reveal a stone basin; gently, he picked up a thin metal dish filled with clear fluid from the middle of it. With great care, he sat the dish down on the desk and proceeded to open and upend the vials into it.

"Is that a Pensieve?" Ginny whispered.

"Yeah, it is." The memories Bart deposited swirled in the liquid. He kept checking the markings on the vials before he emptied them.

"How did you…I thought that Pensieves were-"

"Ginny, we're a little crunched for time right now. I promise I'll tell you all about the less-than-honorable ways I acquired this object afterwards. For now, let me focus on what I'm doing, okay?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure the memories are in the right order. Since we don't have the hours upon hours it'll take you to get every detail, I think context will be king here so you need the most important ones in the right order."

"Are they…These memories are H-Harry's?" Her throat clenched unexpectedly.

She wasn't sure—despite everything—if she was capable of handling seeing herself through his eyes.

Bart shook his head. "No, they're mine."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine. I put them together last night after I left your house. I had a feeling you would still come. I just wish you didn't like to leave things to the last possible minute."

"You have memories of Harry saying how he really feels about me?" she asked incredulously.

"People like to tell me things. I must have a very trusting face."

"Bart!"

He emptied the last vial and turned back to Ginny.

"I'm not bullshitting you. This isn't a game right now. Every answer to every question you couldn't ask out loud is in here." He touched the tip of his finger in the Pensieve. "You just have to watch and listen."

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"Of course you are." He nodded sagely. "All of your perceptions are about to be shattered. But what would you rather have: moments of fear or a lifetime of regret?"

"Well, when you put it like that," Ginny said, edging closer to the Pensieve, "I can only think one thing."

"What's that?"

"That it's a miracle Nell got pregnant considering her husband is secretly a woman." She smiled tightly and Bart leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Just watch and listen. Harry's going to tell you everything himself. Do yourself a favor and don't be stupid this time around."

"I'll try." Trembling, she started lowering her face towards the shimmering liquid. Against her will, her eyes caught sight of the clock one last time.

9:37 am.

With a deep breath, Ginny plunged headlong into the memories. 

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><p>Wherever she had landed it was dark and warm. Very warm. The air in the room was summer-kissed, moist and humid. The floors under her feet were solid wood and she pulled her wand out to give herself light. Blinking, she was surprised to see herself in Bart's pub, the Millennium Falcon. With the aid of her wand, she spotted a small sliver of light peeking out from the back. She hurried towards it to find Bart wiping blood off the forehead of a man slumped down on the floor of Bart's office.<p>

A man with very messy black hair.

"I thought we had a deal," Bart said to Harry. "If one of us is too drunk to travel, we're supposed to call the other."

"Was late," Harry mumbled, his head hitting the wall as he leaned back. "Or early. Didn't want to wake you and the missus."

"You lucked out. She's in London working at the clinic, she decided to just crash in the office." Bart finished wiping Harry off and put his wand to the large gash on Harry's forehead, muttering a quick spell.

Harry jumped slightly as his skin mended itself. "You could be nicer to a bloke."

"Not when the bloke comes into my place of business absolutely bombed out of his mind at four in the morning to clean me out of my best Scotch, I don't. You were lucky it was me who responded to the Detecting Charm and not Klaus. We both know how he feels about people stealing liquor." With a grunt, Bart lifted Harry from the ground and deposited him onto the couch before going to the desk and pulling a flask out of a drawer. Without asking, he tipped Harry's head back and dumped the contents down Harry's throat, holding his hand over Harry's mouth so swallowing was the only option. Bart waited until Harry stopped sputtering to continue. "What the hell happened in New York? Did you and Meredith-?"

"Didn't see Meredith." Harry's words were clearer, just a little less slurred. Ginny thought it must have been a rather potent mixture to sober Harry up so quickly. "Couldn't see her. Not after…"

"After what?"

Harry put his head in his hands. "After I saw Ginny."

She started at the sound of her own name and even more so at the look of confusion on Bart's face.

"Ginny? Who's Gin...?" Bart's eyes widened in realization. "Oh man."

"Yeah."

"The Ginny that sent you running here three years ago?"

"Yeah." Harry stood and walked slowly, a little unsteady on his feet. "She, uh, got dumped by the Potion Prat and wound up in New York somehow. I just ran into her on the street by chance." He shook his head. "I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been running late. Can you imagine? One minute earlier even, and none of this would have... I'd be in New York, sleeping next to my girlfriend, and enjoying my hard-earned vacation right now if not for that stupid delay in Customs."

Ginny bit her lip. It shouldn't have happened, their meeting in New York. There was no logical reason for both she and Harry to have been on that rainy street at the exact same time. It was only by the purest, most absurd form of chance that they had found each other. That was all it had been.

Or had it?

Had whatever being or force that controlled their universe put her in the company of a monster for two years so she could conceive his child and have him do away with her so cruelly just so she'd be on that street? Had it also kept Harry on such a rigorous work schedule for all those years so he'd be forced to finally stop for a holiday with his girlfriend, who just so happened to be working in New York at the time he needed rest?

It could be true. At the same time, it could all be chalked up to coincidence. Every day stranger things occurred in the world than two people crossing paths after a long time, to wizards and Muggles alike. Perhaps it really was all a matter of chance.

_Or perhaps Chance was an alias for Fate all along…_

Ginny made herself focus on the memory as Bart spoke again.

"How'd she look?

"Bloody awful," Harry said, trying to smile. "It was raining and she didn't even have an umbrella or a place to stay. I think the wanker had just kicked her out and she wasn't going to go running to her family, not at this time of night. No, she's too proud for that."

Ginny tried not to be hurt by his judgment. He had been entitled to it.

"Why do you think he broke up with her?"

"Oh, that wasn't hard to figure out." Harry toyed with a few odds and ends on Bart's desk. "She's pregnant."

"And I assume it's not his?"

"Nope. She cheated on him. Not sure how, but she probably managed to find someone slimier than Dresden to throw herself at. Maybe she just got tired of being chased after by the Potion Prat's adoring press and figured sleeping around was the easiest way to get out of it." He tossed a small ball up the air and caught it with one hand. "Ginny likes the easy way out of things."

"Okay." Bart moved closer to Harry, studying him with careful eyes. "So to recap, your ex-girlfriend is now single, homeless, and pregnant, which means she'll probably have to kiss her Quidditch career goodbye, while you are involved with a woman who adores everything about you, living in a paradise isolated from evil, and advancing rapidly in a profession you thrive off of. Am I right?"

"Yeah, that sums it up nice and tidy."

"In other words, you win."

"Yes, I do." Harry stared down into the ball in his hands. "So how come I want to kill him?"

"Who?"

"Dresden. Whatever he said to her tonight when he ended things, he…he made her cry." Harry's jaw tightened. "She crushed my heart like it was nothing and still, when I saw that someone had done something hurtful to her, I wanted to find him and make him pay for it. Instead of laughing to myself and saying best of luck in that alley, I-I made her go back up to my hotel room when I realized she had no place to go. I canceled a date with Meredith to listen while Ginny told me what a mess her life is and I…I…"

"You what, Harry?"

He turned his glassy eyes up to his friend, shiny with guilt. "I almost kissed her. There was a moment after she had gotten out of the shower, her hair smelled just amazing and she was wearing the shortest, thinnest nightdress you've ever seen and-" He broke off, disgusted with himself. "If she hadn't turned her head away, I would probably still be kissing her right now."

"Well," Bart said slowly, "that probably wouldn't have been a good idea. For one, you have a girlfriend," Harry blanched and tried look away but Bart wouldn't let him, "and two, she's pregnant. I doubt her kid would appreciate you mauling its mother while-"

"She." Bart quirked an eyebrow. "Ginny says it's a girl. The baby, I mean. Ginny's having a little girl," Harry finished, his voice soft. Without another word, he got up from the desk and stalked out the door, shaking his head as he did.

Bart watched him go and spun the forgotten ball on the desk. "Damn it," Ginny heard him murmur under his breath before Bart and everything else in the room started swirling in front of her… 

* * *

><p>"You're completely insane, have I told you that lately?" Bart's voice called out.<p>

The sunlight obscured her vision when she landed in the next memory, so bright that she wasn't sure where she was at first. When at last she could see, she became fourteen years old all over again, red-faced at the sight of Harry, bare-chested, whacking away at a pile of logs with an axe while Bart sat on a tree stump with a glass in his hand. In her embarrassment, Ginny glanced away to see they were at the lake house.

"Yes," Harry huffed, raising the axe and bringing it down hard, "that's come up a time or two in conversation. Why, pray tell, am I insane? Because I like doing some manual labor the Muggle way?"

"No, I'm with you on the wood chopping. It's great therapy sometimes. I was referring to the fact that you're going to be sharing a house with your pregnant ex-girlfriend."

"I'm aware of that."

"You'll be sleeping a few doors down from your pregnant ex-girlfriend."

"I know that."

"You'll be sharing a bathroom with your pregnant ex-girl-"

"Is there a point to you repeating the same thing over and over again?" Harry asked, using the axe to support himself as he bent over to catch his breath.

"Yes. To illustrate to you that you are completely insane. Because Ginny's not going to get any less pregnant or any less your ex-girlfriend when she moves in with you, something I think you're failing to grasp."

"Believe me that was made clear." Harry signaled for the drink and Bart handed it over, waiting for him to finish. "By you and Nell and everyone else in this damn village."

"Including Meredith? Haven't seen much of her since she arrived the other night."

"She's planning an excavation in a few weeks off the coast of Hawaii. Just because she's visiting me here doesn't mean her job stops being important. She's been coordinating with her team through the Floo, that's all."

"And ignoring you because she's pissed that you're completely insane. Then again, I would be pissed as well if my wife did everything humanly possible to make sure her ex-boyfriend could move in with her."

Harry waved a hand at him and turned back to his chopping. "You're twisting it into something it isn't."

"Buddy, we can dance this dance for as long as your feet can hold you up," Bart called out over the sound of the metal tearing through the wood, "but I was at that town meeting last night, listening to every word that came out of your mouth. This situation needs no outside twisting whatsoever to be the something that it is." He let Harry concentrate on his labor for a while. "Do you trust her?"

"Ginny?" Harry stopped, breathing heavily. "No, I don't."

"Do you want to?"

"I thought you didn't like butting your head into people's business. Isn't that what the whole code word thing was about?"

"That's just making sure Nell and I can stay friends with both you and Ginny. As to the other, you're right. I hate butting in and forcing people to do something they don't want to do. Talking out loud and annoying people with inconvenient truths on the other hand…" Bart's smirk faded. "So do you want to trust her again?"

"Maybe," Harry admitted reluctantly. "I just…I don't know. We deserve a second chance, right?"

Bart let the statement hang there for a moment. "We?"

"She," Harry said after a beat. "I said, 'she deserves a second a chance'."

"Okay," Bart drawled, watching Harry attack the logs with renewed vigor. "That's absolutely what you said."

_No he didn't_, Ginny thought as the memory began to shift again. _There was a "w" in front of that "e", Bart. That's another word entirely._

A word that lifted the veil just a little more off of Ginny's eyes… 

* * *

><p>The warmth of Harry's kitchen greeted her next and she plopped herself down on one of the chairs, next to a haggard-looking Bart as he gulped down a purple liquid from a coffee mug. Harry was at the stove, frying something up.<p>

"Do me a favor," Bart said seriously.

"Anything."

"Remove my head from the rest of my body. End my suffering, I beg you." Bart groaned and dropped his face to the table.

"Give the potion a minute or two to work," Harry answered with a smile. "A professor I had at Hogwarts, wizard by the name of Slughorn, swears by it." He set a plate full of eggs and bacon by Bart's head. "Though given what's waiting for you with your wife when you go home, death might be the most merciful thing I could do for you right now."

"She barely said two words to me when I Flooed." Bart's eyes peeked out from his folded arms. "I screwed up bad, didn't I?"

"Nell is the kindest woman I've ever met," Harry said as he sat down on Bart's other side, opposite Ginny. "For what you've put her through these past couple of weeks, I could take a hammer and beat you senseless with it."

"Somehow I think I'd be getting off light."

"You would be." He put a fork in Bart's hand and nodded to the plate. "Eat. You'll feel better."

Slowly, Bart began digging through the runny eggs. "This must be a nice change for you."

"What's that?"

"Being the smart one in the friendship for once." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "She wants kids. Nell wants kids which means in the abstract she wants me to be someone's father. Why the hell would she want that?"

"Probably because she knows you'll be a great one."

"I just put my old man in the ground less than a week ago. Before that, we hadn't spoken in over twenty years. He threw me away and to my knowledge, he never questioned or regretted that decision. That's in my blood, Harry. I am someday capable of-"

"If you finish that sentence," Harry cut him off, eyes blazing, "I really will take a hammer to you, no joke. There is no possibility of you ever abandoning your child, not for any reason other than death. Do you understand me?"

"Look, I'm just saying-"

"Do you remember how it felt growing up feeling like no one in the world loved you because you were different than everyone else?" Harry asked, leaning in closer to Bart. "All the days you spent trying to be invisible so you wouldn't get looked at and all the nights you hugged that threadbare pillow to your chest and wrapped yourself in a sheet to get warm, pretending it was your mum holding you?"

Ginny's heart lurched as she realized Harry was talking just as much about himself as he was talking about his friend, if not more so. She ached to reach her hand across the table to hold his, but she knew she'd only be touching air.

Bart stared unseeingly down into his eggs. "Yeah," he said after a time. "That, uh, sounds vaguely familiar."

"Would you ever inflict something like that on another child? One that has Nell's eyes looking back at you?"

"You just…You don't get it," Bart argued, taking a piece of toast and slathering it with butter. "When was the last time you were ever afraid with every part of your being?"

"Night before last," Harry replied immediately.

"What are you talking about?"

Harry took a long sip of his tea before he answered. "I was up in Ginny's room, after she read a letter from her parents and she got this strange look on her face. Her eyes got all wide an-and I was scared something was wrong with her when all of a sudden she starts going on and on about how the baby is moving. Then, before I can even think she grabs my hand and puts it right on her stomach."

"So…you were scared with every part of you that Ginny or the baby was in danger?" Bart asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"No. I mean, yes for a few seconds but it was more. She's…She's having a baby."

"Yeah. The four thousand calorie a day diet was a pretty glaring red flag."

"I did not eat that much!" Ginny vehemently denied, to no avail. Shaking her head at her silliness, she refocused on Harry.

"Look, I just mean that for a long time, years really, whenever I imagined Ginny being pregnant, the father wasn't some nameless piece of garbage. It…It…" Helplessly, Harry gestured to himself and Ginny was grateful she was sitting. "So when it finally clicked for me that she's actually going to have a child in a few months, when I felt the proof of that with my own hand, some weird dormant instinct took over and I let myself believe for a second that…it was my kid."

"And you were scared."

"That's the thing of it," Harry said, "I wasn't. For less than four seconds I was happier than I ever thought I'd be. It was only after I realized what I was doing and stumbled out of her room that the fear hit. Because even with everything Ginny did to me, it's still easier than blinking my eyes to love…" Ginny's breath caught as Harry's eyes clouded with pain. "I have a girlfriend."

"Yes, you do."

"She loves me. She'd never hurt me the way Ginny did."

"Well," Bart said, cocking his head to the side, "that'd be pretty hard for Meredith to do considering that you can't be hurt by someone unless you're giving them every part of yourself. I don't doubt that you tried to, but it was never going to happen." He patted Harry's arm comfortingly. "You know what you've got to do."

Harry nodded. "Meredith will be here this weekend. I'll…find some way to break it off with her gently. In person. That much I owe her."

Ginny wanted to smack her head against the table, much like Bart had.

_You idiot! That was the weekend you were going on and on about how happy you were for him and…Bloody hell, you made a cake! And ordered them oysters! The only thing you didn't do was write the propos-Wait a minute. That doesn't make sense. Why did Harry have a Persem diamond if he wasn't going to ask Meredith to marry him?_

Bart spoke again, cutting into Ginny's train of thought.

"She has working eyes and ears. I don't think it'll be too hard for her to understand. Of course, that leaves you with the task of figuring out if and how you want to woo the lovely Ginevra Weasley. Any ideas on the subject?"

"None at all." Harry managed a tiny smile before it dissolved into a frown. Loud footsteps racing down the stairs caught her attention and Bart's. They both looked to see a rounder Ginny wearing ill-fitting clothing appear over Harry's shoulder and pause in the doorway. "All I want," Harry said suddenly, "is for her to understand that I-"

"Morning Ginny!"

Harry's eyes widening in surprise was the last thing she saw before she was thrust out the memory… 

* * *

><p><em>Just watch and listen from now on<em>, Ginny ordered herself over the sound of heavy male breathing and grunts of pain. _Don't think. Don't say a word out loud to distract yourself. Just watch and listen._

She did exactly that as Bart and Harry appeared again in what looked like the basement of Bart's house, except the room had been expanded and there was a raised platform with ropes serving as a barrier around the perimeter of it, with the two men circling each other in the small area, their hands hidden with large, puffy gloves and their heads covered in protective headwear.

Bart threw a series of punches at Harry's kidneys, which Harry dodged successfully. "Did you tell Ginny you love her yet?" Bart rasped out.

"No." Harry sent a shot straight to Bart's gut. "Did you tell your wife that it's okay for her to stop taking her potion yet?"

"Okay," Bart said, backing away and bouncing on the balls of his feet, "mine is a legitimate fear of parenthood based on years of neglect and abandonment. Yours is an irrational fear of telling a girl how you feel about her. Big fat difference there."

"Say I tell her how I feel about her," Harry said, moping sweat off his brow, "and she says she doesn't feel the same about-"

"Not going to happen."

"-me. What am I supposed to do for the next three months or so until her trial is over?"

"You could run from the room as soon as she enters or refuse to speak to her more than absolutely necessary. Wait a second!" Bart hit his forehead. "That's pretty much what you're doing now! Shouldn't be too hard of an adjustment." He grinned and raised his hands again. "Shall we continue in this Sport of Kings?"

Harry swung a wild punch at Bart's head.

"Hey! You know the rules: Nothing above the neck."

Harry braced himself against the ropes, arms slung over the sides, huffing with exertion. "You know what Ginny did for me the last time we had a real conversation?"

"What?"

"She went out of her way to prepare a romantic dinner for me and Meredith because it was something friends did for each other; the same Meredith who several hours later ended things with me because, in her words, it was impossible to watch any longer while Ginny and I kept stumbling around being in love with each other." He stretched out the ropes as far as they could go. "All Ginny's ever called me is her friend, ever since New York. I'm a good friend, the most helpful friend, and the most decent friend a girl could ask for. At the end of the day, in her own words, that's all I am to her."

"Harry, she's just as terrified as you are, probably more so with all the hormones running through her."

"It was supposed to fall into place when Meredith wasn't an issue anymore," Harry said, not hearing Bart and holding the rope in one hand as he paced. "There wasn't supposed to be this confusion and uncertainty. I'm free to do what I want, to have what I want. I have tried my best a thousand and one ways to show her because if I say it first and she says no, then…" He stopped next to Bart and blinked. "How do you know about her hormones?"

Bart shrugged and looked down, his face growing red.

"Nell has books around the house. You know, for work. Books about pregnancy and…" He shrugged again. "I don't know."

"You're reading them?" Bart nodded. "That's a good start."

"I figure I'm going to be terrified no matter what," Bart admitted, "but if I take it slow and use very small steps to get there, at least I have some control over the situation."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that's the way to do it then." He punched his fists together. "Another round?"

"No head shots," Bart warned, taking position, "unless you want to call your cousin up and show him what real boxing looks like…" 

* * *

><p>"Your accountants will want to murder you when they see the loss you took on this land sale."<p>

"They're goblins. They want to murder me anyway for breaking into and out of one of their vaults when I was a teenager." Harry brushed him off, taking aim at the dart board on the back of Bart's door. "This won't do anything either way."

"It will for Ginny," Bart said, propping his feet up on his desk and taking a sip of Butterbeer, his ledgers strewn around him. "Do you know in theory how much you should have sold her that land for?"

"More than she'd make in five years as a Harpy." Harry kept his eyes on the target and launched the dart, barely missing the center. "It wasn't about the money. I have more than any one wizard is entitled to. This was doing something nice for someone that I…someone that means very much to me."

"I still can't believe she accepted."

"Didn't leave her a choice. I, uh, hit a little below the belt."

"How?"

"The baby." Harry's voice became softer at those words. "I just told Ginny that having a nice house on a big plot of land would be better for her daughter than a small scrap of a yard that they'd get using the community's land. Somewhere her little girl could run around safely, exploring and digging and climbing up trees all day. Like Ginny had when she was a child."

"You mean kind of like the property you live on now?" Bart smiled half-heartedly.

Harry walked to the board and picked his darts off it. "Don't start again."

"Not possible if we haven't ever finished…" 

* * *

><p>The two men were sitting at a table in the pub, each with a book propped open in their hands.<p>

"A boy." Harry chuckled quietly, turning his page. "I can't get over it. I still can't believe you didn't tell me."

"I figured the child's mother had dibs on knowing its gender. Not that she may have been too happy about me telling…" Bart suddenly grimaced in disgust. "Are you kidding me?!" He turned his book to Harry and pointed to a particular passage. "Nell's going to have to deal with **that** if she gets pregnant?!"

"Oh yeah," Harry nodded, leafing through his own book to show Bart something. "But you're only looking at the first couple of months. Look at the potential of changes in the third trimester. This one," he tapped his finger to one spot, "started with Ginny a couple of days ago."

"Argh!" Bart forcefully pushed the book away and shook his head. "No way! That's not supposed to happen to…to those! I'm never going to look at them the same way!"

"What can I say? It's creating human life. It gets messy."

Bart took a long sip from his drink, shuddering. "Why the hell would any sane woman want to willingly do that to her own body? It's just barbaric!" He looked at Harry curiously. "Tell me the truth: How hard is it to watch Ginny do this sometimes?"

"When it's your turn, with Nell, it's going to drive you up a bloody wall a mile high," Harry said, taking to books and shrinking them down until he could tuck them into his pocket. "She's going to be miserable and in pain a good chunk of the time and there won't be anything you can do to fully relieve her."

"This is not helping my fear, man."

"But then there are these moments," Harry continued, "where she is going to look more beautiful than you ever imagined. That glow that they talk about for pregnant women? It's a real thing." Bart listened intently, watching (along with Ginny) the look that came over Harry's face. "You're going to catch a glimpse of her some times and it'll hit you that for all you've done in your life, you'll never be able to do what she does, be as strong as she is. It's…humbling, really. You'll never respect anyone else more when that happens."

"Wow."

"Plus," Harry leaning in and grinning a bit wolfishly, "her breasts are going to get absolutely-"

Shopping bags landed on the table as Nell and a still-pregnant Ginny joined them at the table. Harry immediately got up to help Ginny into her seat.

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," Ginny apologized. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Quidditch," Harry said at the same time Bart blurted, "Motorcycles." The women frowned until Bart chimed in.

"Some in America are talking about developing a type of Quidditch that could be played on motorcycles. Flying motorcycles. Very controversial subject ripe for debate." He snapped his fingers repeatedly for service. "Klaus…" 

* * *

><p>"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Harry asked Bart, the two dressed in their finest finery, looking across the room at Ginny surrounded by her old teammates, belly safely hidden beneath her robes. The glow, the one Harry had spoken of so fondly, was present on her face and Harry was enraptured by it.<p>

_The ball_, Ginny thought in a daze. _The night of the ball._

"Maybe you should go and tell her that," Bart said with a smile.

With a nod, Harry handed his glass to Bart. "Maybe I will." He set off towards her, brimming with confidence, and Ginny wished so much that Bart's memory would let her see Harry holding her in his arms as they danced together…

It didn't. 

* * *

><p>Instead, it brought her to the hallway of what looked to be a hospital. Bart raced across the tiled floor until he came up to stand at Harry's side, his dress robes flapping behind him.<p>

"Where is she?" Bart asked frantically. Harry didn't move, didn't even appear to have heard his friend. Bart shook his shoulder to rouse him. "Harry, where's Ginny?"

"Nell has her," Harry finally managed to say. He pointed his chin towards the wide double doors. "In there. A bunch of healers pulled her out of my arms and took her f-for surgery. I think that's what Nell said. She…She didn't stay too long. She was in a hurry."

"They probably just want to get the baby out quickly," Bart tried to explain. "I'm sure that's what's best for both of them."

"She wasn't conscious. I kept begging her to wake up and she wouldn't."

"Harry, let's-"

"I-It kind of felt like she was having trouble breathing, too. She sounded like she was struggling after the Portkey landed. No one would tell me why."

"Look, Ron and Hermione will be here with the Weasleys any minute and then the doctors will answer any-"

"If she can't breathe, how can the Snitch breathe?" Harry asked, turning pale, having trouble with his own breathing. "How can he breathe if his mother can't? How can he open his eyes if she can't?" He pushed himself away, gripping his hair in both hands as he leaned his forehead against the wall. "What's going to happen to them?"

Bart tried to squeeze Harry's shoulder. "They are both going to be fi-"

He didn't finish. Harry shoved him off his shoulder and punched the wall in front of him with all the force he could. Ginny and Bart both gasped in horror before she faded away… 

* * *

><p>"You need to sleep."<p>

Bart directed this statement at Harry, but Ginny was too caught up in a moment of looking at her son, safe in Harry's arms as they rocked together in a chair in a room off of the nursery, to pay much attention.

_He's so small_, Ginny thought in wonder, kneeling beside them and smiling at the miniature features of her son. She ached to bury her nose in his neck and smell his newness all over again. _How was he ever this small? _

"I'm fine," she heard Harry croak. She tore her gaze away from the baby, feeling her happiness slip to horror as she took in Harry's appearance. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble across his jaw, the perfect bookends to the weariness and sadness etched across the rest of his face.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Bart asked incredulously, rolling the stool he was sitting on closer to Harry.

"Keep your voice down," Harry ordered, holding the Snitch a little tighter to him. "He can hear you, remember? I don't want you scaring him; he's been through enough already."

"Harry, he's okay. All of the healers gave him a clean bill of health. Same with Ginny."

"She's not healthy. She's not awake yet."

"Yeah, well then she's at about the same place you are only she's actually lying down," Bart tried to joke. Harry simply ignored him. "It's just going to take another day or so to clear out the Thead. They don't expect anything to go wrong."

"Kind of like we didn't expect some psychopaths to poison her at the ball in the first place?" The baby shifted in Harry's arms and he loosened the blankets slightly.

"Alright, um, that's the other thing we have to talk about." Bart tapped his feet nervously against the floor. "Gawain is reluctantly—and I cannot express that word enough—agreeing with you and charging the four guys with attempted murder, even if it is a case scant on even circumstantial evidence," he muttered under his breath.

"Look, it's only to scare them," Harry argued, standing slowly and putting the Snitch down in a bassinette. "With the charges and the public outcry that will await them at trial, they'll plead down to attempted manslaughter and get five years each, three and a half with good behavior."

"And you're okay with that? Manipulating the system this way? Using your name to…Harry, it was a prank that got terribly out of hand and hitting these guys with the judicial equivalent of a two-by-four isn't-"

"Ginny thought she was going to die," Harry cut in, keeping his hand cupped around the baby's head. Bart sighed and fell silent. "When she was lying on that ballroom floor, she thought she wasn't going to make it a-and she didn't care. All she wanted was for Nell to save him." He glanced over at Bart. "Maybe it's not fair or just to the outside world, but I gave up many years of safety and security to keep society safe; a society that included those four. They can give a couple of years in return for what they almost took from me." He ran a thumb across the Snitch's eyebrow, turning his lips up a bit when the eyebrow turned black.

"It may not be illegal in the purely technical sense. You just can't convince me this is right, either."

Harry tugged the rocking chair closer to him with his leg, not even looking behind him. When he could, he sat down besides the baby, guarding the child even though he looked barely awake enough to hold a cup of tea.

"If it had been your whole life on that ballroom floor," he whispered, "you wouldn't need any convincing."

The room distorted itself again, in both the changing memory and the tears in Ginny's eyes.

_Oh Harry_, she thought, reaching forward to take him against her warmth, against the life he had help to save, but she only stumbled to the ground as she was pushed onward… 

* * *

><p>"Ouch!"<p>

Ginny had to brace herself on her hands for her landing at the next memory to avoid breaking her nose on the tiled floor of what appeared to still be St. Mungo's. Her fall was so bad that she missed whatever Bart and Harry had said to each. Wincing, she pushed herself up level with them.

"…and that's all you have to do," Bart instructed Harry from behind, hands on the other man's shoulders. "Tell her what that talk on the balcony meant to you, how happy you are that things are out in the open, and let the rest fall into place."

For his part, all Harry did was nod before walking into a darkened room wearing clean clothes and a clean face, a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

Bart walked a good distance away, forcing Ginny to follow him as he paced back and forth for a bit, a hopeful look in his eyes until Harry left the room again; the look of anguish on his face crushed Ginny, much like she knew she had just crushed him… 

* * *

><p>She didn't see Harry at first on her next stop and she almost didn't want to. This whole business was so much more exhausting that she had ever imagined it would be. How long had she been trapped here in Bart's memories? An hour? Two hours? Two days? Was this all pointless to continue with because Harry was finally and truly lost to her in a place she'd never find him?<p>

"The healers say Ginny can go home in a few more days." Nell's gentle voice saved her yet again from the darkness of her thoughts. She looked up to see Bart holding Nell against him as they stared at something through a window. "It'll still take her some time to build her strength back up, though." Her husband did not reply and Ginny was touched and shaken to finally find what had so captured his attention.

Harry was with the baby in the nursery, walking around the room with the boy over his shoulder, rubbing his back. She couldn't hear anything, but his upturned lips were moving as if he were singing some kind of song, probably off-key if she recalled her own memories.

"Do you think he'll try to tell her again as soon as they get home?" Nell continued, oblivious to the intensity Ginny saw on her husband's face. "It might be his best chance. She'll be completely dependent on him for a few weeks so she won't be able to run away, at least. Although speaking as her healer, it might be a bit much for her system to take-"

"I want that." Bart lifted a finger and held it against the glass, pointing to Harry.

"I-I-I'm sorry?"

He untangled himself from Nell to look her dead in the eye. He tapped his fingers against the glass again. "I want that," he repeated as a tearful smile broke out on his wife's face.

_Well if nothing else_,_ two deserving people became parents out of this whole ordeal_, Ginny thought_. That's got to count for something_… 

* * *

><p>Bart was pulling things out of the fridge in Harry's house when Ginny appeared while Harry was getting plates from the cupboard.<p>

"You nearly ripped my hair out with that little pull you gave me up there," he told Harry.

"I figured you'd prefer that to me hexing your bits off. What the hell was all that about, making a big deal about the furniture?"

"Why do you think I was making a big deal about it?" Bart licked a bit of mustard from his fingers as he and Harry began assembling sandwiches together. "There's nothing out of the ordinary about you lying to Ginny about the furniture being the stuff Teddy used-"

"Bart…"

"-because it was, in fact, the furniture your parents used with you until you all went into hiding." He snorted a little. "Not to mention the reason it was put into storage was that all the pieces were Potter family heirlooms dating back a couple hundred years. Really, how is it even possible to make something like you handing over all that family history to your ex-girlfriend's son sound like a big deal?"

"She's recovering from a near-death experience," Harry said, slicing bread. "She needs me to be a friend now, nothing more. Not yet."

"I hate to be the one to break this you, but you're not acting at all like a friend. You are acting like something else entirely." Bart took the finished plates and began floating them back upstairs to where Ginny remembered she and Nell would be. "Coincidentally, though, the word for that thing you're acting like is also six letters and starts with an 'f'." Bart sauntered out of the room and began taking the memory with him, leaving Ginny hardly any time to catch her breath.

_That's…That's not…Harry doesn't think he's…_

She clung to the memory as long as she could, waiting to hear the denial from Harry himself.

He gave her only silence in return… 

* * *

><p>"So she did it." Bart clapped his hands together and continued pacing, walking right through Ginny as he did. "My wife's system is officially and completely free of birth control. That's…That's wonderful. Isn't it?"<p>

"Shh!" Harry admonished. The sofa he was sitting on was covered in blankets and old clothes. In fact, there were things strewn throughout the entire living room. It was only the pictures on the mantle that let Ginny recognize it as their…as Harry's home. "The baby was colicky all night. Ginny didn't get any sleep and I'm not about to let you wake her."

"She's all the way upstairs. My ranting's not going to wake anyone." On cue, a cry came out of the portable crib in the corner. Harry grumbled and went to the baby while Bart looked up to the sky. "A Nimbus 2003 isn't just going to appear out of nowhere."

"Nice try. Hand me those baby wipes, would you?"

"I know I'm making more of this than I should," Bart said, delivering the wipes while Harry laid the baby on the sofa and unpinned the soiled nappy. "I'm a capable adult married to an even more capable adult. There's no reason to think we wouldn't be able to handle raisi-Sweet Merlin that is putrid!"

Harry chuckled and banished the nappy before Bart's lunch could reappear. "That's actually a pretty light one." He addressed the baby. "You can do better than that, can't you mate?"

"How is it humanly possible for him to produce that?" Bart hunched over on his knees until his color returned. "I'm being serious here."

"You're being a wimp is what you are, you Capable Adult."

"My point from before that eruption of feces," Bart continued while Harry cleaned up the baby, "is that babies are overhyped. They're much less scary than I'm letting my brain make them out to be." He looked to Harry hopefully. "Right?"

"Are you kidding me?" Harry laughed with his whole body and pointed down to the wiggling baby. "This is eight pounds of pure terror and nerves right here in front of you. He can do absolutely nothing for himself. He's relying on me and his mother for nourishment, warmth, cleanliness, security, entertainment. You name it, he can't do it. Except try to kill himself, of course."

"W-What the hell are you talking about?!"

"We can't leave him alone for more than fifteen seconds at a time. What if there's a blanket hanging on the side of his bassinette and he pulls it over his face, suffocating himself? What if we don't pay attention when he's nursing and he starts choking because he doesn't know how to drink slowly? What if I'm eating something with a fork while I'm holding him and he reaches out and-"

Bart leaned forward again. "I really am going to be sick this time," he groaned.

Harry gave him a quick clap on his back. "There's more good stuff than bad stuff," he said as he finished with the nappy."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Harry thought for a moment. Something finally came to him and he smiled gently. "They get fascinated by the strangest things. For almost eight minutes the other day, he kept staring at his hand while he opened and closed it. Can you imagine being entertained by something like that?" He chuckled again. "He talks to me and Ginny, too, even without words. His cries are different depending on what he wants. Ginny figured out what hungry sounded like in the hospital and we both got cuddling pretty early. I think I've got nappy as well. It's a slightly different pitch than when he wants to be burped."

"That's insane."

"Plus," Harry said, lost in staring down at the Snitch, "he looks at me sometimes. Just looks up at me sometimes and I can tell that he knows…I mean, he knows exactly…" He didn't finish; he just bent to place a kiss on the baby's forehead.

Ginny knew what he was saying, though, and it made her feel more ashamed of herself than she ever thought possible for not making the connection sooner.

_He knows exactly how much you love him, Harry…_

* * *

><p>"HARRY!"<p>

Ginny screamed at the loud yell coming from Bart, standing next to her and beating his hand against a door. The hallway they were in was bleak; there was barely any light coming off the bulbs overhead and it was dingy as well, with cracks and stains all along the walls.

"HARRY, OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!" Bart gave up pounding and sagged his forehead against the door. "Please answer me," he begged quietly, desperately. "I know you're here. It's been three days since the article came out. You have to let me in. You have to let me know you're alive."

Despite her promises before she entered the Pensieve, Ginny turned away from the scene; even if she had been able to watch, the tears streaming from her eyes would have made it impossible to see anyways.

_I said…I said that he wasn't…But he's not! He can't be! He can't love my baby that much because he doesn't…He didn't…He couldn't still…_

Her frantic attempts at rationalization ended when the door abruptly opened and Bart stumbled forward. Taking a deep breath, he entered the apartment and as hard as she tried to fight it, Ginny was forced to follow the rest of the memory.

How she wished she hadn't. How she wished she could unsee what was before her.

The apartment was nearly bare, with only an aged futon and a milk crate holding up a lamp with no shade in the living room. The walls were the color of mud and the carpet was dotted with holes and burnt patches. But it wasn't the décor that Ginny found hard to bear.

It was Harry. Lying propped up against the wall and wearing clothes stained with what looked like alcohol and days' worth of filth. His wand lay beside his fingers on his other side was a copy of _The Daily Prophet_; Ginny could just make out the words of the headline that had so changed her life.

Bart approached him slowly, a hunter nearing the prey. Or a prey wary of the hunter

"Harry, do you know who I am?" he asked the still man seriously.

One of the most celebrated wizards of all time turned half-lidded eyes up to his friend and nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I'm going to come sit next you, alright?" Harry didn't respond that time and Bart moved carefully to sit beside him. With even greater care, Bart took Harry's wand from the floor and put it inside his jacket. "We've all been looking for you for a while. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

"It's fine. I like being alone."

"No, you don't."

"It's better. I don't get hurt that way."

"Look, can you tell me what happened after you read the article? We've tried to ask her, but Ginny won't-"

Immediately, the air in the room crackled with energy, dust beginning to swirl and the sparse furniture beginning to shake. The filthy windows groaned as the light in the room flickered on and off. Just being in the memory was terrifying; Ginny could only imagine how Bart had felt.

"Don't say her name!" Harry barked. "I can't…" He grunted, struggling to regain control of his magic.

"Okay, okay relax!" Bart ordered, laying a hand on Harry's thigh and squeezing it gently, while Harry struggled to breathe through clenched teeth. Slowly the room calmed down. Harry didn't, though. He kept his back pressed against the wall; his eyes shut as he tried to regain control. "I won't…I won't mention her. I promise." He shifted to get more comfortable. "We'll talk when you're ready for it."

"You should leave," Harry hissed.

"Are you coming with me?"

"No."

"Then I can't." He took one of Harry's hands in his and held it tight.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because Aurors and Infiltrators are the same: We don't leave a man behind."

They let silence cover them and Ginny knew as she watched from her spot huddled in the doorway that Bart had saved Harry's life that night… 

* * *

><p>There was no trace of Harry in the next memory. In a way, she was grateful. All she saw was Bart in his office, hunched over a letter. Timidly, she glanced over his shoulder to read the parchment and found Harry's familiar scrawl across it:<p>

_Bart,_

_I'll be out of touch for a bit, maybe a week or two. I'm not leaving for the task force, not yet. There are things that I need to settle first. I should arrive in America by the time you get this. If it's not too much trouble, give those two blokes you told me about, Jacobson and Markum, a call and let them know I'll be in touch. I'm working off the books and my methods may not exactly be approved by my current employer or your former one. I'm going to have to keep you out of the loop for both our sakes._

_Just keep doing what you're doing, watching over everything for me. If you haven't heard from me by the time of the migration in a few weeks, carry out the plan we made: Take the bird and her chick to that nest we discussed if the crow looks like he'll be able to snatch the chick. Leave them there until it's safe for them to fly away. All the provisions they'll need for their journey will be in the nest. Don't let the bird think I had anything to do with it._

_Keep yourself safe and give my love to your wife._

_Harry._

Ginny blinked down at the parchment. "What is he talking about?" she asked out loud.

Migration? Bird? Safe to fly away?

What did Harry mean? It was clear from Bart's exasperated appearance that he understood perfectly. Quickly, before she was forced out, she read through the letter again, hoping to catch something she missed. She found it even before she got to the greeting:

The date.

Harry had written the letter the same day she had last seen him. He had gone off to America after he had left her, but for what? For who? What was he trying to find? Unbidden into her mind came an image of a lovely young woman with blonde hair that would surely welcome a free and clear Harry back into her arms and Ginny shivered.

_No. Bart wouldn't do that. He said this was about making me see that Harry…that he feels…But who in America could have helped me with something like that? Certainly not Lionel or his family. The only Yank I know besides Bart is Sara and I hadn't met-_

The missing puzzle piece wedged itself into place.

"He found her," Ginny whispered while the room shifted away like sand in the wind. "Harry found her…" 

* * *

><p>"So how did you find her?" Bart asked Harry. The three of them were all back in the apartment from the earlier memory, except now it was cleaner. Still sparsely furnished, but much cleaner. Bart and Harry were sitting against a window seat, looking out into the night sky. Ginny could just make out an iron-wrought tower in the distance, brightly lit in the moonlight.<p>

_Paris. I always wanted to see Paris with Harry._

He had saved her son for her, kept her little boy in her life. There was nothing she could ever do to repay him for that. The only thing she could think of was taking him in her arms and never letting him go. But she couldn't. Not where she was now.

Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb. It's not a good look on you."

"I figured a man doesn't just become a bastard overnight," Harry explained, "so I went to America to trace Dresden's roots. See if there was something there that could help her. Help Ginny. I heard about Sara and their relationship from some of the household staff in his mother's home and thought maybe he had killed her. Wouldn't put it past him, even at that age. When I read the reports from the fire, though, it didn't add up to murder. The fire damaged and destroyed, but not enough that it would spread; not enough to hurt anyone else. I looked more into Sara's background and found out how clever she was, how skilled she was with potions, even for a Squib and it occurred to me that she could have pulled it off. I just didn't know why. Until I examined her grave."

"You unearthed the remains in that grave?" Bart asked with wide eyes. Harry nodded. "Do you have any idea how many laws and treaties you violated with that move?"

"That's why you were out of the loop. Anyways, upon close examination it was clear the ashes scattered in the coffin weren't human, so Sara was still alive somewhere, but for whatever reason, she had needed to disappear completely and there was no way it didn't have something to do with Dresden. It took a lot of doing and more than a few Galleons to find the wizard who changed her appearance. Once I had her picture, I tracked her to Andover. She wasn't eager to tell her story until I mentioned the…" Harry swallowed and looked down, "until I mentioned there was a child involved. Then she was willing to do whatever I asked to help."

"So afterwards you Obliviated her and left the paper with the article about the baby so she'd go to England for the hearing."

"And the note for you, saying what you needed to do. You Obliviated that part from her as well, right?"

"Just like you asked. I think Ginny was just so relieved she didn't question how Sara fell into our laps."

"Good." Harry leaned against the window and let the view absorb him.

Bart took his time, trying the words out in his head before he opened his mouth again.

"Harry, I think that-"

"I'm still leaving for the task force. I won't change my mind about that."

"Why?" Bart asked, dumbfounded. "S-She lied to you. I get that. You were angry, as you had every right to be. But she wasn't doing it to hurt you. She was trying to keep her family safe, keep **you **safe from the blackmail."

"I know."

"Then why can't you forgive her? Why are you still mad at her?"

"I'm not."

Bart stood up and turned away in frustration. "You're impossible! Do you know that?! That woman is in love with you. There is nothing she wouldn't do for you. She writes to you every day, begging you to come back and just talk to her, to look at her again and you won't give her that. Why?!"

"Because she loves me," Harry said to the Paris night. "I know that. I do. She loves me enough to hurt herself if she thinks it'll be best for me. She loves me enough to lie and disavow herself if she thinks I'll be happier that way. She loves me enough to stay away from her family—her parents and her brothers whom she worships—so I can keep them. She loves me and all that love has brought her is pain."

"No," Ginny whispered tearfully, stunned by what she was hearing. "Stop it."

"So that's going to stop now," Harry continued. "Right now. I'll be gone in a few days and she can move on with her life. She can…She can raise her baby and watch him grow. She can even find someone…." Harry took another long sip of his drink. "She can be happy. Ginny can be happy."

"While you get to hurt and lose everything in your life," Bart concluded.

Harry was silent for a minute. "When I asked her that day about why she lied—you know, before I called her a whore and screamed what an awful mother she was in front of the Snitch—do you know what she told me? She said she had done because she was trying to protect me." He looked back at his friend and smiled humorlessly. "Do you know what happens to people who protect me? I…I love her too much to let her do that anymore."

"Oh Godric." She sunk to her knees. Harry's face swam in front of her, masked by her tears and the shifting of the memory. "No!" she cried out. "No, let me stay! I need to tell him-"

Against her wishes, the scene vanished slowly… 

* * *

><p><em>Oh, be the last one. I beg of you, be the last one.<em>

She didn't understand what more Bart could want her to see.

Harry's words kept replaying over and over in her head. Words she had longed to hear and words she had convinced herself would never pass from his lips again. Words that should have shocked her, but didn't not really. Not when she finally heard them out loud from him.

Because he did love her. He did. He had showed her for so long in so many different ways. All those months, all the devotion and sacrifice she had let herself believe…no, forced herself to believe was friendship; it was merely a defense born of a broken heart, one she knew wouldn't be repaired if she let Harry have it again only to lose him once more. Every part of her had to fight against it, creating and clinging to whatever excuses stuck:

Harry would always love Meredith more than her.

Harry would do much better in his life without her.

Harry would linger too much on the memories of the war with her.

Harry would never forgive her.

Harry would always see the Snitch as a burden she brought with her.

Harry would only ever want friendship with her.

Lies. Fallacies. Half-truths and maddening justifications, all of them. They had nearly cost her her sanity but, the ones she had told Harry could cost her even more.

She had to get to him at once. First, though, she had to see something else from Bart's eyes.

Collecting herself as best she could, she found herself in the Nixon's home this time and to her surprise, her son was propped up in his carrier in front of her, sucking contentedly on his dummy.

_What is this? Did I leave the Pensieve and not know it?_

She reached forward to take the baby, but found like before, her hands went straight through him, confusing her.

_He's…He was wearing that outfit last night. This was less than twenty-four hours ago. What could be here that I need-?_

The Snitch interrupted her by spitting the dummy from his mouth and breaking into the brightest grin she had seen from him in some time, waving his arms and legs wildly in excitement. Before she could even think of what could make him so happy, his hair turned jet black and Ginny knew what, or rather who, he was seeing over her shoulder.

"Hey, mate." She didn't startle at his tone; it was gentle and full of awe. Harry had just managed to sneak up until he was right behind her. Unconsciously, she moved a little to let him closer to the gurgling baby, catching a glimpse of how his hands trembled as he lifted the boy into his arms. "You're so big now. How did you get so big?" Sliding back against the couch, Harry wrapped the Snitch tightly against him, closing his eyes and rocking them together.

_He missed him_, Ginny thought, choking up at the sight of her son being so loved. _All this time I thought I was suffering, but I had the baby. He didn't._

Harry finally settled the baby on his knees in front of him; he didn't speak at first. He just watched the boy for a time, analyzing every raspberry and babble with the intensity of a potion master over a cauldron. Occasionally, he punctuated his studies with a kiss or a caress of a silky cheek. When it hit her what he was doing, she had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from crying out, even though no one would hear her.

_He's saying goodbye. He thinks he'll never…He's saying his goodbyes._

There was no sound when Harry began moving his lips. Ginny moved in closer in case he was whispering, but she still couldn't hear anything. It didn't make sense until she saw Bart peering in from the kitchen, his wand in his hand.

_A Silencing Charm. Of course. It should be as private as possible between the two of them._

Maybe Bart had insisted on being there out of his promise to Ginny to mind the baby at all times or maybe even Harry had wanted him there as a witness so in the future, if ever the little boy asked, Uncle Bart could tell him all about the nice man with the scar on his forehead who had loved him very, very much.

The words she couldn't hear stopped after a time, a long time; about the same time the baby's eyelids drifted open and shut while Harry watched intensely. With slow steps, Bart waved his wand and knelt beside Harry.

"Maybe…Maybe you should leave while he's asleep," Bart said quietly. Harry swallowed heavily and the baby gave off one more powerful yawn before he succumbed to sleep, a smile playing at his lips. "He just…He might get upset if he wakes up and you have to leave in front of him." Bart had the decency to look ashamed. "I-I just think it would be easiest on him. And you, too."

He was wrong. Ginny could easily see that. Nothing about letting the Snitch go would be easy for Harry. It showed in every line of his face. He'd go through a thousand and one Cruciatus Curses in a single hour rather than put the baby back in his carrier.

Harry did, though. Somehow he eased the sleeping baby into the seat, latching him in safe and sound before covering him with a light blanket. Ignoring Bart, he put his nose to the Snitch's forehead and inhaled once last time.

"Please, please remember me," Harry whispered haltingly, "and know that in my heart you will-" The first tear slipped down his cheek and Harry scrambled back so it wouldn't hit the baby. "Thank you," he threw out to Bart as he rose to his feet, hurrying for the door. "I-I'll see you."

"Harry, wait-"

He didn't, he couldn't. He had to get away as fast as he could. Before Bart could move, Harry was rushing out the door. Completely alone and off to a place where he'd have no one for eight long years.

_No_, Ginny thought determinedly. _That will not happen. Not if I can stop it._

* * *

><p>Gasping, she shot out of the Pensieve, blinking around the room wildly to get her bearings back. As Fate would have it, the first thing she saw was the clock.<p>

11:38 am.

"BART!" she screamed, dashing out of the room.

As soon as the door opened, she collided with him, their limbs tangling as they tried to remain upright.

"Did you watch the whole-?"

"Where is he?! Harry! Where's Harry?!"

"I mean, you get it? You see what we've been trying to tell you for-?"

Using all her strength, she slammed Bart against the wall.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

"I HAVE NO IDEA!" With a huff she released him and hurried for the stairs. "YOU ARE FREAKISHLY STRONG FOR SOMEONE SO ELFIN-LIKE!"

"I KNOW!"

"GOOD!"

"Bart, where could he have gone?!" Ginny asked frantically as they reached the living room. Their shouting roused Nell, who popped up from the couch.

"I'm not sleeping," she insisted, rubbing her eyes. "I wasn't. I was watching the baby."

Ginny made a beeline for her son and scooped him up from the glider, trying to find his sling and keep her shaking under control. Bart kissed the top of his wife's head soundly.

"She finally got it, Babe. She's going after Harry. What do you think of that?"

Without warning, Nell clamped a hand over her mouth and stumbled into the kitchen. The sound of her retching into the sink stopped Ginny's movements.

"No, no! Don't do that!" Bart commanded, going over to help her with the sling. "That's not an indication of how she feels on the subject! That's what she does for everything now!"

"Right," Ginny nodded. The sudden pause in her inertia made everything around her and inside her constrict like a tight band of desperation. "What if I can't tell him before he leaves?" she asked. "What if-?"

"None of that!" Bart ordered. "No doubts, no negativity. We just need to figure out where he was spending the day before his departure time. I've been in touch with people while you were in the Pensieve, but no one's seen him. We had a little get-together for him the other night at the Falcon so he could say goodbye to everyone here and he didn't mention…"

Ginny tuned Bart out as she solved the mystery all by herself.

_No. He didn't say goodbye to everyone. He couldn't._

"Thank you so much." She gave both of Bart's cheeks a quick peck. "I-I like having six big brothers again." She held the baby against her and went straight into the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder as she did.

"Where are you going?"

Ginny tossed the powder into the flames and shouted, "Godric's Hollow!" 

* * *

><p>Amazingly, she stayed upright as she burst out of the fireplace of the local inn. A few patrons regarded her curiously; she didn't stop to pay attention. She hurried outside with her child to the streets.<p>

She had never come here. Hermione had told her of the time they visited the Potters' gravesite that fateful Christmas, but both times Harry had asked her to come during their courtship, she begged off, citing school or training. It was not out of lack of interest or caring on her part. It just seemed intrusive in a way. Harry had had so little time with his parents when they were alive and Ginny didn't want to take away any time he spent with their spirits. It wasn't her place then. She wasn't his family.

"You will be," she told her son as they made their way down the small streets. "No matter what I have to do, we'll find him and I'll make this right. For you. Even if he doesn't want me anymore, I won't let you lose him again."

The sky had darkened considerably during her time in the Pensieve. The cool wind of coming rain nipped at her cheek. Ginny brought the baby in closer as she wandered hurriedly along, looking for any sign of Harry or of anyone, really. Of course, it was a Tuesday. Who would be out standing in the street waiting to help a possibly deranged woman on a Tuesday?

_Maybe I am a little mad. I suppose love does that to people, though._

Even in her state, she smiled. There was no way to stop the ricocheting of her emotions, not when Harry was involved. He could make her feel a giddiness one moment and fury the next. A round of tears could be easily followed by a round of laughter and the passion that he could illicit made her want to rip her hair out in ecstasy.

He made her feel alive.

For far too long, she had been stagnant, shutting herself off to all sensation. Whatever small modicum of happiness or excitement she had felt away from him paled in comparison to the actual thing. The vibrant, fiery creature her loved ones imagined her to be needed a flame to light it, and Harry Potter held the match.

It took exactly one-hundred and ninety-eight steps (yes, she had counted) to find the fence surrounding the cemetery and another twenty-four walking along it before she caught a glimpse of black hair kneeling over the stone. Without knowing her eyes were on him, Harry placed two white lilies on top of it and lowered his head in prayer while Ginny stood there, the baby nestled close to her and her mouth unable to perform the simple act of an apology.

She didn't know where or how to begin. She had heard somewhere once, probably from Hermione, that there were over a million known words in the English language. There was no combination of any of them that Ginny knew that accurately describe what she wanted to say to Harry right now. What could she say to him that would make up for all the months, all the years of hurt she hadn't meant to inflict upon him?

Where it came from, she wasn't sure, but somehow her brain recalled the image of Percy, stumbling into the Room of Requirement, glasses askew and facing the family he had thrown away.

Perhaps he had said it best after all.

"I was a fool," Ginny told Harry among the stillness of those who had past. She knew he had heard her when his back went ramrod straight, but he didn't turn so she kept talking. "I was such a fool for pushing you away and an even bigger fool for hiding from you afterwards. But it doesn't even come close to how great of a fool I was by not letting myself see what you were trying so hard to tell me those months we spent in your house. All the meals you made for me. All the foot rubs. All the stupid jokes you told when I was miserable. All the stories you told my baby when he was inside of me. Y-You weren't a friend, Harry. You were in love with me. And I was in love with you. I still am. I always will be."

"Why…Why are you here?"

"To tell you that you can't leave. You can't, not today and not ever. You have to stay and let me make this right. I can't let you run away. I know what it is to want to hide yourself from the world so it doesn't hurt you again a-and so do you. I know you know that and if you think you'll find another Hastom somewhere out there, then you're wrong. You won't find another home, no matter how hard you look. Just like I know I'll never find anyone in this world I'll love as much as you."

"Ginny, please."

"Please what? Please let you make another mistake? Do you know what your first one was? It was being a gentleman and not beating me to a bloody pulp every single time I called you a friend. You just nodded and took it when you should have shaken the breath out of my body. Why didn't you?! Why didn't you make me see how stupid I was?!"

The baby began fussing at her outburst and she tried to soothe him. Harry pressed his hands tightly against his parents' grave.

"You have no idea," he ground out, "what I've been feeling since you came back into my life. No idea the agony-" A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped her before she could contain it. "What is wrong with you, woman?!"

"Once again, you're a daft git, Harry Potter. I've spent the past two hours sifting through almost a year's worth of Bart's memories, all about you and the agony that was being with me." She sobered and regained her purpose. "I saw how much pain you were in because of me, how much you suffered."

Slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes shining behind her frames. "Yes," he admitted. "I did. But so did you, didn't you? Because of things I said and did."

Understanding dawned on her and she walked hesitantly along the length of the fence towards the entrance.

"That's what all this is, isn't it? Your leaving. Y-You're punishing yourself for hurting me, aren't you?"

"It's what you did. You told me yourself. You stayed away; did…things to hurt yourself for hurting me. Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it doesn't help anyone, least of all me and certainly not you! I know why you said the things you did to me. You were trying to hurt me because I hurt you by lying and-"

"And you're okay with that? With letting someone in your life who could say-"

"Of course I'm not!"

"Then let's just stop hurting each other," Harry pleaded, staying exactly in his spot while she edged nearer to him. "Let's end this cycle so we can try and get on with our lives." Taking a deep breath, he nodded towards the sling in her arms. "Think of him. How fair is it to him to have to watch his mother get her heart broken over and over again? To see us leave and come back and leave until we're ninety? What will that do to him? Put your son first, Ginny. It's what you're supposed to do."

She gaped at him in disbelief from the entry gate. "You are such a coward."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Hiding behind an innocent child to try and spare yourself pain by pretending to care about-"

He finally took a step towards, finger pointed like a dagger while thunder clapped in the distance. "I have **never** pretended anything when it comes to him!"

"I know, I know!" It was all getting away from her, this whole conversation. "I know you haven't," she tried again. "I know what he means to you and I shouldn't have phrased it that way." The anger left his face, but the wall of separation was creeping back up. Ginny hurried to knock it down. "I only meant that you were using him like I had all these months, as an excuse; an excuse to not try and be together and we shouldn't do that because he's so much more than that to me. To the both of us." She crossed the threshold to the cemetery and continued in slowly. "I don't want excuses anymore. I want…I want what we had back home. What was an illusion to you-"

"Ginny-"

"-was real to me and I want it back. I want it more than I will ever want anything else in life and I will only ever want it with you and this little boy." She was close enough now to reach out for him, but she didn't. "I-I-I'm scared. I'm so scared of what comes next because I know how hard it will be. You don't trust me and…I don't trust you, either. I don't trust that you won't leave me again someday like you did by the lake at school." The words poured out of her, buried down so deep she hadn't even know they were inside of her. "You left for all the right reasons and I understood them, but you still left, Harry. You still left me behind and I only barely held on to myself. It was the same when you left after our fight and I know I won't survive a third time. I won't. And I'm sure you feel the same about me because…because I left you for all the right reasons near the gate at my parents' house." She closed her eyes in shame, but forged ahead. "We get scared and we leave and we convince ourselves we're doing it for the other person's good. But we're really just scared of putting ourselves in someone else's power, scared of needing someone more than blood or air." At the touch of the first raindrop, she opened her eyes to find Harry gazing down at her face, longing etched on every crevice of his, barely a foot in front of her. "I need you, Harry," she whispered, blindly tucking the sling closer to keep the baby dry as the rain quickly became a torrent. "I love you and…and…and you love me, too. Don't you?"

The rain pounded down around them, but Ginny didn't move for shelter. She was waiting, waiting for him to answer and she knew she'd wait forever if that's how long he needed. Whatever he wanted, whatever he asked from her in life, whatever he needed her to do to regain his trust, she'd do it with a song and a dance.

_Please. Harry, please_, she beseeched him silently, begging with her eyes for the chance they both needed him to take. _Please let me show what you are to me._

He heard her.

Somehow some part of him heard her pleas and his hand moved slowly, too slowly for Ginny's liking, until it was cupping her cheek. "I'm not scared," he said, his voice wavering. "I'm terrified."

"I know."

"You don't know how much."

"I do."

"I lied before. When I said that what we had was an illusion. I just…I thought you'd be better without me and that if I made it seem like what we had was less than…but it wasn't."

"What was it then?"

"What I've wanted ever since I was locked away in that cupboard." He brought his other hand up to her face. "I l-"

The sky lit up around them with a burst of lightning and the thunder clapped behind it. Without giving her a second to shriek, Harry pulled her close and Apparated the three of them away.

"D-Did I hurt either of you?!" Harry asked before she could open her eyes to see where she was. "Did you Splinch? Did he?!"

"No," Ginny answered for herself, looking around and realizing as he lit the room Harry had brought them to his house back in Hastom. Even as a part of her protested pulling out of Harry's arms, she did to examine the baby. Other than a wet forehead from the rain, he seemed no worse for the wear from their unexpected trip, blinking his brown eyes up to her. "He's alright. He was pressed up against us so he couldn't have moved if he wanted to."

"Really?" Harry gently pulled a limb out of the sling to look it over himself. "Maybe we should bring him to be checked out just to be-"

"Harry." She propped his chin up. "He's fine. You didn't hurt him." His shoulders slacked in relief, his hand rubbing the soft fabric of the Snitch's outfit as the baby reveled in the attention. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For finding Sara. For keeping him with me."

"It's where he's supposed to be." He fingered a wet lock of her hair gently. "I-I think it's where I'm supposed to be, too. But you had it right before. It won't be easy. You see, you and I, we're just…"

"Sodding idiots?"

Harry managed a weak chuckle with his nod. "I was going to say, 'damaged and scarred', but yours works fine." He turned serious again. "We need to move slowly. We can't rush into anything that's too intense for either of us. It's probably best that we don't even live together right now."

"What? No, that's-"

"I love you," he said quietly yet with such reverence her legs turned to jelly. She melted onto the sofa and Harry followed her. "You were not wrong about that. But not even a few hours ago, both of us were fully prepared to live a life without the other. Do you think we can reconcile that to eating breakfast at the kitchen table and making plans for a date night with Ron and Hermione tomorrow morning?"

_Damn him! How dare he use logic?!_

"How are we going to do this then?"

"We're going to talk every day on the Floo or by post," Harry assured her. "We'll have dinner every night so we can spend time together and with the baby. We can…We can find a counselor to help us learn how to fight with each other." He seemed to be thinking out loud. "Maybe Sapien could do the job. We can go out as a couple once or twice a week or so, just the two of us. We go slowly until we're both…" He caught her face blanching and paused. "What's wrong?"

"It's just," she struggled to articulate, "I don't know. Everything you're saying sounds reasonable and perfectly fine. If we go too fast, we're risking crashing something spectacularly awful, but if we go too slow, I know that I'll question it all the time. I'll analyze and overanalyze every kiss or non-kiss, every time you reach for me and every time you don't. I will make myself mad with the questions of where we're going and why we're not getting there fast enough. I…I want a life with you, Harry. I want you to be more than my b-boyfriend." The word felt vulgar in relation to him. "I just don't know if I trust myself to get us there. Does that make any kind of sense?"

"Actually, it does." Harry nodded carefully until inspiration struck him and he began rifling through his pockets. "Hang on." He pulled clothes, papers, and toiletries from his jacket, piling them high on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?"

His face paled and he kept his eyes locked on hers as he pulled something out to hold in front of her. "Looking for this."

She shouldn't have recognized it; she had only seen it that one time, snooping around his study after all. How could she be expected to know in an instant what was inside the black velvet box?

Yet she did. She knew exactly what the Persem diamond inside would look like.

_How could he? With t-that ring?_

"Harry, I-"

"Let me get this out first, please," he interrupted her. "I need to." Thumbing the velvet, he took a deep breath before speaking again. "I wasn't going to keep this. I was going to, I don't know chuck it in the ocean or something when I got the chance. It would remind me too much of you, of how I felt when I went into Hogsmeade to buy it for you…"

_Wait, what?_

"Of all the hours I spent with the jeweler pouring my memories and feelings into the magic for the diamond, almost hoping you'd sneak away from school to catch me…"

_School? I was still at Hogwarts? That was years ago._

"And how even after you…you ended things, I kept it with me. It was the last piece of you I had and I couldn't-"

"Y-You made the ring for me?" she asked.

He tilted his head in confusion. "Who else would I give a Persem diamond to?"

Her breath caught in her chest as Harry opened the box and removed the ring; it gleamed just as bright as the first time she had seen it, only now she knew why. It gleamed for her. It was filled to the brim with love for her.

"I thought…you said…" Ginny tried to speak around her admiration of the diamond, but it was difficult. "Slow. That's what you said. This…This isn't slow, Harry."

Reaching down to his shoe, he pulled the lace out of one with his free hand and laid it in his lap. With quick work from his wand, he transfigured the lace into a fine chain of thin gold. Taking the ring out of the box, he hooked it through the chain and held it up to Ginny for inspection. The light bounced off the diamond, catching the baby's attention. He thrust out an eager hand to grab for it before Harry leaned closer and attached the chain around Ginny's neck.

Her head swam and spun, drowning and dizzying itself in the euphoria of emotion that came with the Persem diamond. She had to fight against the power threatening to overwhelm her body and her heart.

_He…He loves me this much? _

"This," he murmured into her ear, "is the answer to all the questions we're going to have. This is what's going to calm our doubts and quell our fears when we get scared." He pulled back and ran his fingers along the chain, making goose bumps erupt along the skin of her neck where he touched her. "I will have those bad moments, just like you will. We'll both probably fight and yell at each other at some point. We'll both think running away would be easier than trying to rebuild what we had, or less painful at least. When that happens, we'll both look at this," he traced the outline of the jewel, "and know that if we keep working at it, this ring will be on your finger someday. We'll be married. We'll have our life." He leaned in close to her breast and kissed the baby's forehead. "All three of us. You, me, and the Snitch."

A gift such as this called for reciprocity, but Ginny didn't know where to begin. He was giving her everything she wanted in the world; what could she possibly give him in return?

_Really? _She thought, her subconscious laughing heartily at her. _No idea at all what he could want just as much?_

Of course she knew.

"I've picked out a name for the baby," she said cautiously. "A real name."

"Yeah?" Harry didn't lift his head up that much, watching as the baby stretched in the confines of his sling. "He probably would get his arse kicked in primary school with a name like Snitch Weasley. What did you decide?"

"I want to name him after his grandfather."

"Arthur? Artie?" Harry tried it out and nodded. "That's a good name, a strong name." He tickled the baby's belly, smiling at the tiny laughs and giggles that came back at him. "Do you like your real name, mate?"

"No, not that grandfather," Ginny corrected, reaching behind her to release the strap of the sling. She eased the baby into Harry's grip and waited until he had a firm grasp on the boy. "I…I was thinking of his other grandfather, actually."

"What do you-?"

"James," she said while she still had her courage. "His name is James." Immediately, the baby looked over to Ginny with wide eyes while Harry could only seem to stare down at him. "I'll never take him from you, no matter what happens between us," she continued in a rush. "I want you to know that going in so you won't ever do anything you don't want to because you're afraid of not seeing him. You're his father, in every way that matters and you have been since he was born. Since before that even. We'll…We'll go to the Ministry tomorrow to start the adoption paperwork and we'll pull every string we both have so it goes through before his first birthday." Inching closer to the two of them, Ginny brushed her child's hair back. "He's your son, Harry."

"O-Our son," he amended, blinking back his tears. Ginny swept them away with a gentle touch and slowly put her head on his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her just as timidly and tugged her closer, near his heart.

"James Potter," she finished, falling into a heady but comfortable silence with her family, the rain outside beginning to lull their little boy to the place dreams came from.

It wouldn't always be this perfect or peaceful. Life would rear its ugly head soon enough and find new complications for them, new challenges to overcome and new battles to fight. It would be daunting, messy, and filled with as many defeats as there were victories. It scared her, but it also gave her something else: appreciation.

With all her might, she'd take these moments with her two men and hold them fiercely to her to combat the obstacles ahead.

She'd be a fool not to.


	25. Epilogue

**Author's Note: I can't believe it's over. That's all I'm thinking. If you wouldn't mind bearing through a few more words from me, I have some people to thank before I can let you get to the end of my personal Yellow Brick Road:**

**Jason, you have been with me since pretty much the first chapter and your encouragement and enthusiasm for this story got it to where it is right now. Somehow, you were always able to form my passages full of missing words and ill-placed commas into something presentable for the masses every single time with the speed of a NASCAR pit crew member. Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and thank you even more for the times you questioned where I was going on my path.**

**Carol, you are my reality ally in this fantasy world. Our conversations at work made the time go by faster and helped to bring about some of the great moments in this story. You pushed me every day for new bits and pieces and my fear of the look on your face when I would tell you I didn't have anything that day for you was all the motivation I needed at times. Thank you for all your encouragement and I hope you know that you're in my heart at this time.**

**Sara, our epic email chains helped me to settle all the kinks out of the plot and let me get to know what made Harry and Ginny really tick here. You were also one of the first on board with me naming the baby James and a little because of your egging me on, there's going to be a sequel out of this thing. Thank you so much and I hope to see more of your work up here soon.**

**Readers, this story wouldn't have continued without your very enthusiastic, sometimes very vocal support. I only hope that by reading this, you guys got a taste of the rush I got by writing it.**

Epilogue

Blue.

It was the color of the sky that shone down on Harry and Ginny as they recited their vows to one another, their family and friends gathered around them.

It was the color of the dresses her mother had chosen for the bridesmaids. Ginny hadn't cared either way, not when there were more important things to care about.

It was the color of her father's eyes, shining with happiness as he walked her slowly towards her husband; the only tear that had slipped from those eyes had been when he put her hand in Harry's.

The jewels of the sapphire bracelet Harry had sent to her room just before the ceremony…the color the Arcus Violets had been when she handed her bouquet to the maid of honor…Teddy's spikey hair as he smiled at her from his spot among Harry's groomsmen…the delicate ribbons Victorie had used to help make the aisle…the blueberry-flavored frosting from the cake they had just cut, which her son had smeared all over his face. It was all the same color.

Blue.

Ginny Potter was surrounded by it that day and nothing could make her happier.

At the same time, it was so surreal. A part of her couldn't believe it had all happened. Though it was rare, she still woke up some nights from horrible nightmares; ones where Harry had left her in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow; left her behind forever in that moment she tried to find the words to make him stay. In those dreams, it didn't matter what she said. He always left.

In life, however, he stayed. He stayed with her through all the hardships and strife that came at them to become her husband. The gold wedding band on her finger was proof of that. She studied the other ring on her hand. Her beautiful Persem diamond winked back at her and she smiled at it, rubbing her thumb across it, Harry's love just as powerful now as it was in the beginning.

Her smile grew as she remembered the day he had finally slipped the ring onto to her finger…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ginny marched slowly up and down the waiting room in St. Mungo's, the chain that held her ring clutched tightly in her hand, the ring itself at her lips. It had been forty-eight minutes since the healer had come out to give them any news; he had promised to be no more than thirty. She did her best not to dwell on numbers, but the ticking clock was making it impossible.<strong>_

_**A hand took her shoulder, slowing her movements. "Do you want me to go get you something to eat?" she heard Ron ask her.**_

_**She wanted to smack him. For one awful second, she really did. She wanted to rage and scream that if Ron was still an Auror, looking out for Harry and watching his back instead of selling tricks and candy with George, then none of them would be here now, waiting for some nameless healer to come find them and say their world could start turning again. **_

_**Just in time, she was able to reel herself in.**_

"_**No, thank you," Ginny told him. "I'm not hungry."**_

"_**He's going to be okay. The trainee he had with him, Daubach, said it was a clean fall. Harry didn't land on anything sharp, just-"**_

"_**Took a Stunner straight to his chest," Ginny said under her breath, mindful of how young some of the ears around them were. Ron pulled her more to the side before she really got going. "What was Harry thinking? He knew the suspect was armed with…with all those potions and explosives and he still went after him! How could he do such a thing?!"**_

"_**That suspect was on our most-wanted lists back before Harry and I even finished our training. This was the first real shot anyone's had at him in over six years. Harry didn't have any other choice but to chase him."**_

"_**Of course he did! He could have waited for back-up or taken his time to assess the situation before-"**_

"_**Before a wizard who had threatened to blow up a dozen buildings got into the Tube with an Imperiused civilian wearing a jacket lined with dynamite? You know very well Harry couldn't stand by doing nothing."**_

"_**Well he can't risk his own life anymore at the drop of a hat. It's not just himself he has to worry about now, Ronald." **_

_**Her brother's eyes followed hers to the other side of the room, where Teddy was trying to teach two-and-half-year-old James how to make different noses. The older boy could grow a narrow stick nearly eight inches in front of his face while the toddler favored snouts that let him stuff Bernie Bott's Beans into the nostrils, his black hair springing out wildly from his head as he giggled. He could make it any color he wanted now at will, but he kept it black for the most part. Whenever someone who knew of his abilities asked her why he never changed his hair, Ginny only smiled. **_

"_**He likes looking like his Daddy," she would tell them. **_

_**She liked it, too. She loved nothing more than to watch Harry with their son. Ever since they had moved back in together, nine months after they had almost lost each other for good, she got her fill of the sight nearly every day, a just reward for all the effort they put into rebuilding their relationship.**_

_**It hadn't been easy. She and Harry had known that going in. Neither of them realized exactly how difficult until they began sitting down with a counselor in London who specialized in therapy with magical couples. It was hard to look at each other after some sessions and even harder to not want to throttle one another. When Harry confessed in one session that a part of him was still waiting for her to leave in the night with James, she had to leave the room for fear of saying something she'd regret. Again. He seemed to have felt the same way when she had told him in another session of how mad it drove her when Harry didn't want to discipline their son out of fear of the boy hating him because such reluctance made her feel that Harry wanted James to hate her instead. **_

_**They kept on talking though. Every day they said a little more and every day it became a little easier to remember all the reasons they wanted to be together. That was never an issue when they were cuddling with James, watching as he began to crawl and toddle everywhere. Surprisingly, the real challenges arose when they first began spending time alone. Their first few "dates" were awkward, to say the least, punctuated by long silences once anecdotes about the baby ran out; that is until they remembered that they had been a couple before James came into their lives, bonded by love for each other instead of a child. Stories about the baby gave way to talk of work and their interests. When the weather was clear, they flew together and their first summer together was filled with warm days spent by the lake. (And even warmer nights spent together in it) By the time their goddaughter, Sophie Leia Nixon, arrived in the fall, Ginny and James had moved back into the lake house with Harry, where they all remained to this day, happy and whole.**_

_**Well, not completely whole. Her engagement ring was still around her neck after all.**_

_**It didn't bother her, living together while not being married, (although her mum had kittens about it whenever the subject came up), and it didn't seem to bother Harry either. It had been so important to her in the beginning for everything to be defined between the two of them that she would have married him the same night she named James. That wasn't the case lately. What was important to them now was making sure they were both ready before making such a commitment. In the midst of trying to balance their work, their extended family, and most of all, their son's needs, marriage—even the formality of an engagement—seemed like something that would upset an already teetering applecart.**_

_**Until today. Until a lack of title prevented her from being with the man she loved. **_

_**The Floo call from the Ministry had sent her into a panic. In her haste to leave for the hospital, she had nearly forgotten James in his crib. Dozens of scenarios, each more dire than the last, ran through her she finally made it to St. Mungo's, a kind nurse had explained that while Harry appeared to have only broken three ribs and suffered a concussion, he would need further testing by the healers to be certain, given his proximity to some of the dangerous potions he had come in contact with.**_

"_**What room is he in?" Ginny had asked her, struggling not to wake James. "I want to see him."**_

_**The nurse nodded sympathetically. "He's being well taken care of, Ms. Weasley, I assure you. Unfortunately, I can't allow you to see him until he's been cleared by the healers. Our new hospital administrator has put strict limits on access to patients undergoing examinations, unless the visitor is family."**_

"_**But I am family! I-I'm the mother of his son, of course I'm his family!"**_

"_**Are you married?"**_

"_**No."**_

" _**Engaged?"**_

"_**We…We live together. Have for over a year."**_

"_**Do you have legal documents listing you as his next-of-kin?" **_

_**James stirred in her arms as Ginny searched for the words to make this woman understand. **_

"_**I need to see him," she finally said slowly. "I need to know he's going to be okay."**_

"_**You will be notified as soon as we have any news, Ms. Weasley," the nurse said gently. "The waiting room is just down the hall and I'd be happy to contact anyone you think needs to be here. There's even a playroom for children where I can take your-"**_

_**The first wave of Weasleys, including Ron, Hermione, and George, had burst onto the ward, cutting her off. For the next hour or so, as more family and friends trickled in and out, everyone made an effort to get Ginny behind the ominous-looking double doors, but even a personal appeal from Kingsley Shacklebolt wouldn't change the new administrator's precious little mind. In his antiquated view, a shared home and child did not make Ginny Harry's family, leaving Ginny to wander aimlessly around the room. She put on the best face she could for her son's sake, but as the hour became two hours and the second hour slowly approached a third, all she could think of was the other time she had waited in a hospital for news about Harry. The waiting then had nearly killed her, filling her with fear; when he had awoken, the fear was compounded with uncertainty for him and whether a future with her was in his best interest.**_

_**Today was different. There was no urge to run away from the enormity of her feelings for him, from the way it consumed every part of her. **_

_**There was a new urge in its place.**_

"_**Excuse me, ma'am?" The healer, in his green robes, looked and sounded barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, but he had Ginny's (and the room's) full attention when he entered. "Mr. Potter is awake. He's suffered no permanent ill-effects from his injuries or his exposure. He should be able to leave in the morning, after a full course of treatment to repair his broken bones."**_

_**As soon as the words "awake" left the healer's mouth, Ginny walked over and held out her hands for James and Teddy. She walked out of the room with both of them and headed straight towards the double doors.**_

"_**Ms. Weasley? Excuse me, Ms. Weasley? You can't go back there," the young man tried to say.**_

"_**What room is he in?" she asked the nurse at the desk.**_

"_**709," the other woman replied with an approving smile. **_

"_**B-But Administrator Dullvin-"**_

"_**Will not like how his face looks afterwards if I should have to speak to him myself," Ginny shot off, whirling around to face the shaking healer. **_

"_**He won't," Teddy said solemnly. "She gave one of my Quidditch teammate's dads a tiny willy on his forehead after he yelled at me during a match last week. Said it probably matched his other one."**_

"_**Mummy mad!" James chimed in, beaming up at his mother.**_

"_**L-Last door on the left," the healer said, backing away.**_

"_**Thank you," she said sweetly. "Boys, let go." She led them through the doors and down the hallway, shushing them as they tried to race ahead. When they reached the closed door that said 709, she picked up James and knocked quietly.**_

"_**Come in." Harry's voice sounded much too rough for her liking, but she almost cried at just the sound of it. **_

_**He was safe and alive for her once again.**_

"_**HARRY!" Teddy was already in the room, taking a running leap for the foot of the bed before Ginny got her bearings back.**_

"_**Sweetheart, don't!" she chastised, wincing at how pale Harry looked amidst the white hospital linens. "Harry doesn't feel well enough to…" He held a hand up to stop her as Teddy's brows furrowed. **_

"_**I'm fine, Cub," he told the boy, sitting up slowly to give Teddy a deep hug. "Just a little sore, that's all. Nothing a great big cuddle wouldn't fix." Harry held out his other arm for James.**_

"_**Daddy!" The boy reached for his father, but Ginny kept a tight hold on him.**_

"_**Harry, are you sure you should-?"**_

"_**Ginevra," he implored her, "give me my son right this instant." When he finally had both boys in his arms, he gave them each a kiss on their heads. Teddy pulled back after a minute but James clung to his father.**_

"_**Did you catch the bad man you were chasing, Harry?"**_

"_**I did. He won't hurt anyone any-Ow! Easy there, mate." He flinched a little as James burrowed further into his side, but wouldn't relinquish his hold on the toddler when Ginny went to pick him up.**_

"_**I taught James a new trick. Do you want to see?" Teddy asked proudly.**_

"_**More than anything." **_

"_**Okay, James." He waited until he had the little boy's attention. "Now, just like me, alright?" Slowly, Teddy's face began sprouting purple spots all over it; after a moment, James's did as well, only his were fewer and larger.**_

"_**That's great! You are a wonderful teacher, Cub. Isn't he, Ginny?" **_

"_**He is." She smiled at him and kissed James when he leaned his head back to peek at her. "Though I have a sinking suspicion that these two are going to try and come down with Dragon's Pox once a week during the school year."**_

"_**No, they won't. They'll save it for important things like Potions exams or tickets in the top box at the World Cup. Right, Mr. Lupin?"**_

"_**Right!"**_

"_**Right, Mr. Potter?" James nodded his entire head in agreement and snorted with laughter as his spots faded. Harry smiled tenderly at both of them. "I love you little monsters so much." He winked up at Ginny. "I don't mind having you around, either."**_

"_**Always the charmer," she teased before settling her mouth into a thin line. They had business to settle and she wouldn't wait a moment longer to get it done. "Teddy, can you take James into the corner to play while I talk with Harry?"**_

"_**Sure."**_

_**Ginny helped them both off the bed, trying to avoid jostling Harry as much as possible. She pulled a bag of building blocks from her purse and handed it to Teddy, along with another kiss. **_

_**Harry waited until the boys were occupied before he slowly eased himself upright, bringing his legs to the floor with a grunt. He pulled Ginny in between them and wrapped his arms around her. **_

"_**I'm sorry," he whispered into her stomach.**_

"_**You scared me," she replied, burying her face in his hair. "If I wasn't even more terrified of my mother's reaction, I'd kill you right now."**_

"_**Does it help if I said I knew how stupid it was to follow the cock-?"**_

"_**Uh-uh. Children present."**_

"_**Sorry." He glanced back at the boys. "Does it help if I said I knew how stupid it was to follow the C alone?"**_

"_**No, because you still did it and now I want to shove a very pointy wand up your A, you P." She pulled him close again, soaking in his heart beating against her body. "They wouldn't let me see you."**_

"_**I know."**_

"_**I burst into this hospital, not knowing if you were alive or dead and they wouldn't let me see you with my own eyes." Even in his arms, it was still hard to stop trembling at the thought.**_

"_**Every time I woke up," Harry said,"I asked for you. Someone just kept telling me it was against policy to allow non-family members in the room during assessment. I wanted to kill the smug P and even thinking of Molly's reaction wasn't scaring me. You are my family. You're my whole life and we're never going to let anyone question it again."**_

_**He pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily into Ginny for support, and reached behind for her neck.**_

"_**What are you doing?" The clasp of her chain was undone and her ring fell into Harry's hand. "Harry, what are you-?"**_

"_**Marry me, Ginny." With unsteady hands, he slipped the ring onto her finger. "I know why we waited. We were being careful because we have too much to lose if this all went to hell, but it didn't and then we just got comfortable not doing anything. It made us lazy. It made us forget how precious what we have is. Unfortunately, it took something like today to shake me out of it." He kissed her knuckles. "I know what we have and I want everyone else in the world to know, too. So say yes. Preferably soon because my legs are about to give out."**_

"_**Then sit down," she laughed through her tears. She waited until he was sitting again before taking his face in her hands. "Yes," she whispered. "I'll marry you."**_

_**His eyes washed over her reverently. "I love you," he told her. "The fact that you've already given me such a wonderful child just makes everything that much sweeter."**_

"_**I love you, too." She held her now-fiancée to her again, rocking them back and forth, watching as their son piled block on top of block with the help of her godson. Her whole family was with her in this building and she could only think of one thing to complete the day. "Harry?"**_

"_**Yes?"**_

"_**Are you going to fall asleep anytime soon? Like, say in the next ten to fifteen minutes?"**_

"_**That's extremely specific. I might just make it. Why do you ask?"**_

"_**Because I'm going to go and find a wizard to marry us right now. I'd be ever so pleased if you could stay awake for the vows."**_

"_**What the…Ginny, no." Harry leaned back and tried to stand until Ginny gently forced him down. "We can't do this now!"**_

"_**Why not? Truly, why not? Bear in mind if you say anything about me being in a pretty white dress, I will hex you far worse than that W at Teddy's game."**_

"_**Your mum will have a fit."**_

"_**My mum has a fit every time I wear a skirt hemmed over my knees. I love her dearly, but I'm a grown woman."**_

"_**The press will find out about it five minutes after we're pronounced husband and wife if we do it here. They'll make our lives miserable for the next two months, trying to get a picture of us or James whenever we go out in public."**_

"_**Then we'll camp out at home for the next two months. We have the money to take a bit of a sabbatical if we want to." She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Well, you have the money. Hopefully in about a half hour it'll be my money, too." **_

"_**Gin…"**_

"_**Fine, keep your money. Just make an honest woman out of me, why don't you?"**_

"_**It should be a celebration," he said simply. "We should stand out under the open sky and promise our futures to each other while everyone we love watches. There should be a dozen courses at the reception and a cake two stories high. People should dance until the sun comes up, drinking the finest wine and champagne. I know I'm risking my forehead, but you should wear a pretty white dress so everyone can tell you how beautiful you look and have every flower in Great Britain all around you, enhancing that beauty. It took everything we had to get here, Ginny. Let's mark it accordingly."**_

"_**That's maybe the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Harry Potter," she said, stroking her thumbs across his cheeks.**_

"_**So we'll wait."**_

"_**No, we won't."**_

"_**Why don't you want-?"**_

"_**I went to bed last night and I wasn't your wife," Ginny cut him off calmly. "That was one of the stupidest things I've ever done. Please don't make me do it again. That ceremony and party you described sounds amazing and we'll do that someday. Just not today. Today, all I want, all I need to is to go bed tonight with the same last name as my son and his father."**_

_**Harry was silent for a long moment until he pulled her left hand to his and examined her ring. "I suppose that Fate's going to start getting short with us if we keep spitting in her face," he finally said with a small smile.**_

"_**Really?"**_

"_**Yeah. Besides, the sooner we get married, the sooner we can start work on making James into a big brother."**_

"_**Remember our deal, sir: That one," she prompted her chin at her happy son, "gets potty-trained before I start giving room and board in my body to another one." She let her tongue gently caress Harry's in a long kiss, giggling when his hands drifted down to her rear.**_

"_**You embody the stereotype of a witch sometimes," he said.**_

"_**And you're marrying me."**_

"_**Damn right I am. So let's go find ourselves a wizard, get this over with, and go home to honeymoon with a toddler who'll climb into bed with us."**_

"_**I was wrong before." She smiled cheekily. "That right there was the sweetest thing you've ever said to me…"**_

* * *

><p>"Ginny? Are you alright? Everyone's looking for you at the party."<p>

She smiled at the sound of Hermione's voice cutting into her memories and finished touching up her make-up in the bathroom mirror. The reflection that gazed back at her made her feel desperately old some days, but not today.

Even if it was her and Harry's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.

"What took so long?" Hermione had aged gracefully, Ron only giving her a few gray hairs thus far into their thirtieth year together. They walked arm-in-arm through the house until they went outside to where the giant marque stood near the edge of the lake. "I hope your sons didn't find a way to have their own fun with the food before it was served."

"My darling little hell demons? Hermione, what on Earth are you talking about?" They laughed for a moment before Hermione stepped away to talk to her daughter. Rose (named for her great-grandmother and, very briefly, her own father) had surprised the entire family by joining Luna Lovegood in the latter's exploration of the strange and wild while Hugo had joined Ron as a purveyor of joke wands and candy that made people sick in all the right ways.

Ginny took the time to stand on the outskirts of the party to look over her guests. The entire celebration, from the ceremony a few hours earlier to now, had been the work of her children, a surprise anniversary gift for their parents. Harry and Ginny's wedding at St. Mungo's had become legend among the Weasleys and Potters and the children wanted the two of them to have the wedding that Harry had described to her. They had spared no expense, gathering every member of their large family and as many friends as they could find; which was a fair amount. To top it all off, every citizen of their beloved adopted home had given over their monthly visiting privileges to one wedding guest, thereby opening up Hastom to everyone Ginny loved all at the same time.

It was a wonderful thing to be blessed with such goodness in one's life. Ginny knew that firsthand and would never take it for granted.

Her eldest son—still as much her baby as when she'd first held him—caught her attention, his arms wrapped around Sophie's round stomach as they chatted happily with Nell and Bart. It would be their third child and as hard it was to believe that she was a grandmother at times, it was even harder to believe that her little James Sirius was grown enough to be someone's husband, let alone a father to Neve and Benjamin. She wondered if her own parents still felt that way about her after all these years.

She suspected they did.

As much as James had embraced the notion of parenthood from a relatively young age, Al and Lily seemed to find the prospect something to be considered for far, far into the future, which suited their mother just fine. She wanted them to have their own lives and to live them in whatever ways made them happy.

For Lily, that meant touring the globe, designing couture robes for the magical rich and famous. With the help of her grandmother, Lily had made all of the dresses for the wedding party, including the delicate, one-shouldered beige bridal robes Ginny was wearing now. Gone was the rambunctious tomboy that had jumped into every mud puddle along with her big brothers and in her place was a woman of such elegance and sophistication that Ginny, at times, expected her to speak with a thick French accent like her Aunt Fleur. She still made her own mischief, just in her own uniquely Lily Luna way. That way usually involved her best friend, Bart and Nell's youngest child, Gigi. Ginny could only imagine the trouble they were conjuring up together now as they spoke in whispered voices at their table. It was a minor miracle both their fathers had lasted as long as they had in raising them.

Whereas Lily and James had lived up to the Weasley side of their genes during childhood, Albus had always been the quiet balance between them. She knew it was common for the middle child to be the shy, introverted one, but that had been Al long before Lily came into the mix. Al hardly caused his mother any worry as a baby (which actually did worry Ginny to the point where she'd bring him in to Nell once a week to be checked out when he didn't seem to be crying enough) but as an adult, it was different. Sometimes Al reminded her so much of Harry as young man. Back then, Harry had the excuse of being the Chosen One to not let people into his life. Al only had his own fears to blame. She and Harry had done everything they could to boost his self-esteem growing up, to help him realize what a remarkable person he was. While he came to life around his family and the few close friends he had, the outside world hadn't been given much of a chance to know Albus Severus Potter.

He had gotten better in recent years, though. During his travels abroad as an expert in the study of Transfiguration, he had met a lovely witch in Brazil named Lucia. She wore the flimsiest scraps of clothing, drank every man she met under the table, and couldn't cook even if the whole world was depending on her to feed them. Most importantly, to Ginny, she loved Albus fiercely and her love brightened him in a way nothing else ever had. He held her close to him as they moved together to the music and Ginny knew that there'd be another wedding in their family before too long.

Al and Lucia's romantic moment was broken up by two streaking flashes of black holding sparklers in their hands. Even as Lucia jumped back, Al still managed to get a hand on his younger brothers, yanking each of them under his arms as they squealed with laughter for escape.

Gavin Fredrick and Finnick George (for some reason, Ginny was told she had insisted on that for his first name just after his birth) were the late arrivals in the Potter household, making their grand entrance only six years ago, but they had more than made up for that delay by staking their claims as the wildest ones yet. It seemed every day they found new ways to send their parents into an early grave. They were much craftier about it than their older siblings had ever been. Gavin would be the sweetest, most delightful child in the world as a distraction while Finn would sneak the fast brooms out of the shed and the next day, they'd switch roles entirely. However, they both knew that all they'd ever need to do to gain Mummy's forgiveness was to lay their heads in her lap as they drifted off to sleep. They could drive her around every twist and bend, but for every near heart attack they gave her, the joy she received from watching them laugh and play paid it off in spades.

The twins were the tiebreakers she and Harry had once joked about, but their arrival was not the accident that many thought it was. In fact, their birth had been planned precisely because of their actual accident, though her parents never called her that.

They called her Iris. Iris Molly Potter, to be exact.

She was just as Ginny had imagined her to be in her dreams from over two decades ago. A tiny wisp of a thing, she was all her mother until one looked in her eyes and saw her father staring back at them. Ginny smiled to herself as she watched Harry and Iris dance together, the little girl perched on her father's toes as he spun them enough to make her blue dress flutter in the night breeze. Iris was only nine and she already knew a smile could make her Daddy do whatever she pleased. Her big sister had taught her well. She only used her power sparingly, every once in a while asking for an extra scoop of ice cream or a private fly with him after the boys were in bed or now, a special father-daughter dance for the two of them.

Harry glanced up and saw her staring at them. He had shed his formal robes some time ago and now wore just his white Oxford and dress pants, looking every bit as handsome (and downright sexy) to her as he had in their youth. He motioned his head for her to join them, but she shook her own in denial. It was enough for her now to look on as her family celebrated their marriage.

Iris noticed her father's attention was elsewhere and looked over to her mother, smiling shyly. Ginny blew her a kiss in return, marveling once again at her youngest daughter.

Each of her children was unique to her in their own way:

James had helped create the family they all had now. Albus had joined them by blood. Lily had been their first baby girl. Gavin and Finn had finally completed their brood and Iris…

Well, that was another story entirely.


End file.
